Highway To Hell - Harley Mae Chronicles, Book 1
by KaraLJ
Summary: 21 year old Harley Mae and her 17 year old brother, Caden, have been hunters for as long as they could remember. They were skilled, but sometimes, even they made mistakes. When a mysterious black smoke infects the pair with a demonic sickness, they are forced to face their greatest fears. 'SPN Sidekick', see my profile for more information. Takes place in no particular season.
1. Introduction

Harley Mae Davis and her baby brother, Caden Ryan, spent their entire lives saving people, hunting things, fighting to keep the nightmares at by. They've been fighting for so long, neither can even remember the last time they had a normal moment, continuing their mother's work, her legacy, her lifelong goal and ultimately, the family business that would one day lead to her bitter demise. With the 1977 Mercury Comet, packed with guns, knives, machetes, and more, and a journal full of lure, signs, symbols, warnings and general information of years of hunting. They made it this far – without dying yet.

It was like any other day, driving down the highway, on their way to yet another case. This time was different, this time it wasn't a mysterious murder or a possible haunting that sent them on their way. It was a frantic call from a family friend – Bobby Singer. A suspected Shape-Shifter wrecking havoc on the people of Tulsa, Oklahoma. The dynamic duel hadn't been to Tulsa in almost 15 years, not since they were too young to really remember it. With heavy hearts and memories of the last Shifter they hunted, they drove in a wicked silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

That case turned into one that changed their lives in countless ways. They're story begins on interstate 244. A story they wished they could remember better, just to understand what happened. Just to see how a normal case turned into their biggest fears.

* * *

"Why did Bobby call us? Why not send Sam and Dean after the shifter?" Caden complained as he threw his empty hamburger wrapper into the back seat of the car.

"Because they're tied up in a case right now, I guess. He said he'll send them out in a week if we need the backup," Harley said with a shake of her head. "Not that we've ever really needed their help before."

Caden and Harley were very experienced, very capable hunters, but they were young. And less crafty than the older Winchester brother. She could win big at a game of cards, but sucked with authorities. Probably because you don't see many almost 221 year old females as FBI agents. And Cade, him being only 17, and looking barely that, it was hard to keep up with the covers most times. Especially since they were both wanted in counties across the country for fraud and other similar charges. They always managed to make due with the resources they had and the limited access they were able to gain, but it always helped to co-pilot a case with the Winchesters.

The pair had become accustom to calling the Winchesters when things got weird. Caden, a skilled shot and a great tracker, was demon-illiterate to the point of no return. Though he try his best, research was never his cup of tea. Harley, on the other hand, was a brutal, killing machine, who always knew exactly what she was walking into, before walking into it. At least, up until now.

18 year old Caden hated the family business almost as much as he hated the demon that killed their father over 15 years ago. He pledged his life to the hunt before he even knew what it was he was hunting. His lifelong goal was to kill the bastard that sent their mother on a wild goose hunt, her two children left to chase after her, night after night, for years to come.

22 year old Harley, had a different goal in life. She enjoyed a good hunt, and loved the energy that a job well done put off. She loved every aspect of it, except the constant concern for her brother's sanity. She made it her mission to ensure her brother was always safe, no matter what the cost. Even from a young age, she was strongwilled and hardheaded, always eager to jump into things, not always considering the negative repercussions, as long as her brother made it out alive. Though she always had her head on right, she was callused. She hated the demons, ghosts, creatures she hunted, with a passion that burned brighter than the sun. She had a thirst for the blood of her father's killer to one day be on her hands. Murderous and careful, she led the life she was born to lead.

Tulsa, Oklahoma. A city out in the middle of nowhere. The pair had been meaning to return to Bobby's for a much needed break when he called and sent them 10 hours off course. Caden loathed the change of plans, exhausted from the last case they successfully finished only days before. Harley, eager for a break and a solid night's sleep, just wanted it to be over with, before she ran out of fuel.

"I hate Shifters..." Caden pouted, his head resting on his arm, which was rested on the side door. He looked a little pale, which sounded alarms, but Harley was too concerned with the case the let it worry her.

"So do I," she sighed. Shifters were never good news. "Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll just be a hoax this time," she added hopefully.

"When was the last time we turned up empty handed?" Caden muttered, his eyes half closed.

"I have to pull over," she gasped, a sick feeling suddenly washing over her. She tried her best to pull over with grace, but winded up slamming the brakes, pushing the door open at the same time. Her insides turned to ice, thick vomit pouring from her mouth before she had a chance to aim.

"Harley?" Caden asked softly, feeling sick himself.

"The sky," she moaned, her stomach churning again. "The sky."

Those two words were the last she uttered. The sky. The sky was filled with a thick, suffocating smoke, darker than anything they had ever seen before. Caden coughed, his stomach in his throat, acid burning his chest. Unlike his sister, however, he managed to find one of their many cell phones and dialed a number that was all too familiar.

"Harley?" a familiar voice came.

"No, Cade," he gasped, trying his hardest to keep his voice smooth, audible.

"What's up?" the raspy voice asked.

Overcome by a wave of nausea, Caden spit out the first words that came to mind, their co-ordinates and license plate, a code their mother had taught them years before, an easy way to find one another, or send for help when things turned ugly. " 36.15, 95.99. HAR 62K." The phone fell from his hands as he shoved the door open, coming face to face with the dark, deadly smoke.

It took the Winchesters three days to reach them, no matter how fast or how many shortcuts they took. Dean had realized without a doubt, exactly what Caden had said over the phone, and having hunted with the pair before, he knew Caden wouldn't give an answer like that if it wasn't urgent. Dean was worried for the safety of the two young hunters who had, on so many occasions before, been like family to him and his brother, Sam. He knew it was their duty to make sure they were alright, especially with a call as urgent as the one that still burned at the back of Dean's mind.

"Look," Sam pointed, his eyes locked on the black Comet. "What were the plates again?"

"HAR 62K" Dean responded, pulling over behind the car. That was when he caught sight of Harley, laying in a crumbled heap, beside the car, bloodstains on her mouth. "Shit," he muttered, reaching behind him for his gun.

"What do you think happened?" Sam asked, slowly approaching the car.

"I don't know, but Cade sounded pretty scared when he called," Dean replied, moving a bit quicker than his brother, eager to ensure that both the young hunters were still alive.

A moan came from Harley's side of the car. She stirred slightly, gagging, her body heaving against the pavement. That made both older men jump into action. Sam went quickly to Cade's side of the car, while Dean crouched next to Harley.

"She's burning up," he called softly to Sam, who was pulling Caden into his arms. "What the fuck happened?" he muttered.

Dean picked Harley up, her thin, weak body dangling limply in his arms. He'd never witnessed her looking so frail, so wounded in all the years he'd known her. She didn't show weakness, not when she could help it. He pitied the crumpled mess in his arms, but that didn't stop him for wrinkling his nose at the sour stench of vomit that covered her body.

Sam carried Caden over to the Impala and laid him in the backseat, propped slightly so their was room for both him and his sister. Caden looked better off than Harley, but showed no signs of life either. It worried the brothers, because whatever had gotten to them, got to them with unforgiving force.

The pair decided the safest place to take the two was Bobby's. He'd be able to help. Dean, unhappy as ever, complained about the sickening stench the entire 10 hour drive there.

When they reached the house, the first thing they did was clean up the two, in hopes it would revive them, with no such luck. Hours were then spent researching anything that might explain the deathly silence, that might give them a clue at what had happened out there, on Interstate 244.

* * *

_A/n;; Highway to Hell is the first book in the Harley Mae Chronicles. 22 year old Harley Mae and her 18 year old brother, Caden, have been hunters for as long as they could remember._ _They were skilled, but sometimes, even they made mistakes. When a mysterious black smoke infects the pair with a demonic sickness, they are forced to face their greatest fears. With the help of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer, they just might make it out of this one alive. But when Harley is struck with an impossible decision, she has to choose between her brother's life or a lifetime of torture in hell. Follow Harley Mae as she faces impossible odds, in Highway To Hell - Harley Mae Chronicles, Book 1._

_PS;;_ _SPN Sidekick. :) See my profile for more information. NOT a Mary Sue story!_


	2. Chapter 1 - Mommy Issues

I started to come to what seemed like a lifetime later. My throat was raw, my stomach torn to shreds from the inside, my body shaking with effort as I pushed myself into a sitting position.

"Cade," I whispered, scanning the area for him. It was then that I realized we weren't a mile outside of Tulsa or in the car. We were in a house, one both familiar and strange. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and groaned, my body screaming at me to go back to sleep.

"Easy Tiger," a voice came. I turned to see Dean standing in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest.

"Dean," I whispered. I felt a sense of relief wash over me. Cade must have called Dean. Jeez, we always called Dean when things got hairy. It made me remember something our mother said over 7 years ago, when we saw her for the last time.

"_You have family out there, somewhere. Not all of them are actually related to you, but they'll come, no matter how many miles away they are. John came when your dad was killed. He came and saved you and Cadey. You have to remember, you have family looking out for you." she said "You'll find, in your darkest moment, your family will be there at your side."_

"H-hand me my mom's journal," I said softly, forcing myself to stay upright. I looked around and saw Cade sleeping soundly on the bed across from me. Dean walked in carefully, soundlessly, and helped me stand, his strong arms carefully supporting my body. He nodded towards the door, which I eyed with disgust. I didn't have the heart to leave my brother, but I knew if I woke him, I'd feel even worse. So giving into my better judgment, I allowed Dean to lead me from the room.

He sat me down at the table, a wary Bobby throwing me a look.

"So what happened?" his husky voice asked.

"That's why I want to find out," I sighed, my throat burning. "My mom's journal?" I asked Dean again. He went into the livingroom and returned a moment later carrying my tattered old bag. He handed it to me and waited while I pulled a ripped, ragged leather bound journal from the bag. Flipping through the pages I knew by heart, I settled on the entry I wanted to read first.

_May 27th, 1996_

_John saved my children today. I don't know how he found them, or how he knew they needed his help, but he found them and saved them. Ryan's dead. The thing got him. We don't even know what it is. It almost hurt my little Cadey. I would have killed the thing myself had I been there. What I don't understand, is how Harley didn't try and stop it. She had one job. One freaking job. Watch your brother. And she nearly got the kid killed. Her excuse? 'I had to let the dog out, mommy,'_

_Anyway, today I realized how lucky I am to have a friend like John. His boys will become family to the kids, I have no doubt in my mind. His oldest, the quiet, obedient one, he was there to comfort Hars, I can't begin to appreciate that enough. Those kids are going to need them one day. I just hope they follow in their father's footsteps and come to their aid in their time of need. _

_Heaven help me, I will find your killer, Ryan, I swear on everything, I will. _

_~ ND_

The year of the entry was scratched out, probably because my mother hated remembering the day dad died. I was only about 7. Caden barely 3.

I wracked my brain, trying to remember who had been there. I remember being scared to death, hating myself for letting Caden out of my sight, even for those mere minutes. It took me a moment, but when my eyes met his, I remembered.

"_Dean! Get the kids outside, now!" a man shouted, motioning to his son. The boy grabbed me by my arms and pulled me outside, my baby brother twisting, screaming bloody murder in his arms. Caden, always ready to bite a stranger who ever dared grab him, latched onto Dean's arm with savage eyes. _

"Oh my god," I whispered. I looked up once more, tears in my eyes. "You were there."

"I was where?" Dean asked skeptically, probably chucking the whole thing up to my imagination.

"May 27th, 1996," I whispered. "Your father saved my brother and me." I pushed the open journal over to him, my head swimming with the information.

"I'll be damned," Dean said with a shake of his head. "No wonder it's always 'Screw the case, they need us' when you call."

"Shut up," I retorted. I pushed myself up from the chair and staggered towards the room, my eyes locking on Caden's pale, thin appearance. "How long have we been out?" I asked, trying to remember the last thing that happened before I blacked out.

"Four days," Bobby said from behind me. I shook my head.

"When was the last time he puked?" I asked, nodding towards the bucket at the side of the bed.

"Two hours or so," Bobby said, standing up to join me at the doorway.

"And we have no idea what the black smoke was?" I asked, turning to him with hopeful eyes.

"Black smoke?" Dean asked, taking me by the arm, steering me away from the room once more.

"There was a cloud of black smoke. We were what, a mile or so outta Tulsa, when it hit us. I can't explain it. It was like the worst flu ever, combined with major bad vibes," I attempted to explain. "So much for that Shifter," I added, throwing a look in Bobby's direction.

"Hars," the sound sent chills up my spine. Ignoring the dizziness and the pain shooting through my stomach, I pulled away from Dean and stumbled to my brother's side. His lips were a sickly bluish shade, his skin as white as snow.

"I'm here, Cadey, I'm right here," I whispered, using mom's nickname for him. "I'm right here,"

"Hars," he choked again, his lips barely moving. "It hurts,"

"What hurts? C'mon, Cade, what hurts?" I asked, fear rippling through my entire body.

"Y-you can't see it?" Cade asked, his voice so weak, so frail.

"See what?" I looked at Dean for help. Dean stood behind me, a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his eyes showing the same bewilderment I felt.

"Cade?" I asked again, to no response from my brother. Cursing, I stood up too fast, sending myself into a breathless, panicked state.

"Whoa, chill," Dean said softly, his arms once more keeping me from falling flat on my face.

"Where's Sam's laptop?" I asked. My own had been shattered during a raid a month earlier.

"Sam's laptop is busy," I heard another familiar voice chime. I turned quickly, too quickly, my head taking a moment to catch up with my body.

"Aw, c'mon, Sam, let me use it for a second," I grumbled. He sighed and waved me over. With Dean's help, I made it to the cluttered table without falling – yet.

I typed in a phrase that worked several times before when searching for strange forces. _Demonic encounters. _My vision blurred as I tried to read the first link that came up.

"Urgh," I groaned, letting my head rest on my arms as I kept my eyes on the screen. Suddenly, my stomach gave a violent start, and if Dean hadn't been hovering so close, Sam's laptop would have been a fried mess.

"No more research for you," Dean chuckled, leading me away from the computer. I didn't protest, as I felt worse now than I did when I first came around. I allowed him to push me down on the bed before swatting his hands away. The overly protective brother act was slightly annoying, as that was my role with Cade.

"Hars?" Cade called once more. I looked over at him and saw him struggling to sit up. Groaning, I got up, my body, and Dean, protesting the entire time. I went and sat on the edge of Caden's bed, my hands shaking as I brushed his matted, shaggy hair from his eyes.

"Hey, baby brother," I said softly, pleased to see his clear blue eyes finally looking up at me.

"Did we get bad food again?" he moaned. His face was still pale, sweaty and warm to the touch.

"I wish," I forced a laugh. "But no. What do you remember?" I asked, my stomach still doing flips. Thankfully, my overly concerned maternal instincts allowed me to ignore my own discomfort.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Cade sighed. His face contorted with disgust as he groaned once more, his hands clutching at his stomach. I handed him the bucket and stepped away from the bed as he silently released what little was in his stomach.

"I feel like shit," Cade moaned. I smiled at his simple, childlike complaint. It reminded me of the countless, sleepless nights spent nursing my baby brother back to health after one sickness or another. He wasn't prone to getting sick, but when he did, it hit him hard.

"I know," I sighed. "I do too," I added, then regretted it. He looked up at me with shame filled eyes, regret written across his face. "But I'm up and about," I amended quickly, letting the smile reach my eyes this time. I felt uneasy, but knew for my brother's sake, I had to push past it, overcome whatever the hell it was.

"Demonic Plague?" I heard Sam suggest. Cade groaned and lost it again, but I was more curious about what Sam might have uncovered than my brother's current state. I walked into the livingroom and hovered behind Sam, forcing my eyes to focus on the text before me.

"You said you saw a black cloud of smoke, right?" he asked, turning to look at me, his nose wrinkling. I realized I wreaked of vomit and various other smells. Swallowing slowly, I nodded.

"It was almost like a freaking demon attack," I added, remembering how it always looked when a demon was exorcised. "Like a whole bunch were released in one place," I added to clarify.

Suddenly, my vision failed me. Or at least, I'll tell myself it did. I heard the vicious growl, one familiar and strange. It brought me back to the night our father died...

"_Now, Cadey, Mommy said not to leave you, but Hunter needs to go potty, and mommy'll be mad if he pees on the floor again. So I'm going to go let him out okay? Daddy's not far from home by now..." I said, my tiny hands smoothing the thick hair on his head. He giggled under my touch, his eyes showing how sleepy he was. "Go to sleep." _

_I padded into the kitchen, my sock covered feet cold against the cool tile. Hunter, our jet black collie mix whined, his fur standing on edge. I opened the back door and shooed him outside. _

_That was when the barking started. Loud, vicious and deadly. I jumped back, slamming the door quickly, remembering what mommy had said about demon dogs. I was sure it was just a neighborhood dog out looking for food. Strays always came around. _

_But when the door started to shake, heavy paws pounding against them, I knew I had been wrong._

_The innocent wails of my baby brother shook me from my thoughts, calling me to his room. I ran in and screamed, the ghostly black smoke covering my brother's bed. _

"_Get away from him!" I wailed._

"Harley?" Sam asked cautiously, pulling me from my memories, but not stopping the hellish barking I heard.

"You don't hear it," I whispered, feeling my eyes widen, though I saw nothing. One moment, I saw nothing but darkness, the next, I saw the black fur, the hellish canine glaring at me, it's eyes blood red, hungry. "Caden!" I screamed suddenly, panic filling my heart. I pulled away from the boys, my feet leading me directly to the bed my brother had been laying on a moment before. In his spot, was a messy blanket, but no Caden. "Not again," I whispered, the barking suddenly stopping, my vision returning to normal. My legs gave way, my knees slamming into the floor with enough force to shatter the bones.

"Harley, Harley!" the urgent tone forced my eyes to open. I gasped, then gagged, choking on my own phlegm. Guided by careful hands, I found myself sitting up, coughing bitterly, my chest burning with effort.

"Breathe," the voice commanded. Without a second thought, I forced myself to take several deep, greatly needed breaths. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes then looked up at the face before me. Hands still wrapped protectively around me, Dean looked at me with worried eyes.

"Where am I?" I asked, momentarily stuck in between a dream and reality.

"Bobby's," Dean said, his voice cracking slightly, just barely, but enough to let me know I had just given him a pretty good scare. "Cade's right over there," he answered my silent question, motioning to my brother, who was laying motionlessly.

Without a word, I carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, using Dean's broad shoulders for support. He sat motionlessly, allowing me to lean heavily against him for a moment, before pushing away, stumbling to my brother's side, my entire body shaking with violent chills. I collapsed on the edge of the bed, my hands tightly gripping the blanket that covered him.

"What was the last thing that I was awake for?" I asked, turning ever so slightly, so I could focus on Dean's expression. I didn't notice Sam observing from the doorway until he cleared his throat.

"You were about to fry my laptop. Then you just sort of collapsed in Dean's arms," he said, shaking his head, his long hair flopping over his eyes. "I've never seen someone drop that fast before," he added.

I found myself stumbling over words, trying to comprehend what he was telling me.

"So Caden hasn't woken up yet?" I asked, starting at the beginning of what I remembered.

"No," Dean said, making his way over to me, clearly startled by my inability to remember.

"And Sam didn't get my attention by saying we have a demonic plague?"

"No?" Sam asked, eyes widening, like he wished he'd actually thought of that.

"Then no Hellhound and Caden's here, so no suddenly disappearance," I whispered, still trying to piece it all together.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, his eyes widening. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I looked at my frail, breakable, sleeping brother, tears in my eyes.

I pushed myself from the bed, unstable and weak, but capable, and stumbled towards the doorway. To my relief, Sam's hands were waiting to steady me, his own expression one of concern. I groaned and let him hold me up for a moment, before putting my own discomfort aside to focus on the matter at hand. Sucking in a deep breath, I did all I could to walk a straight line into the kitchen, where, just as I had left it, my mother's journal was laying, face down on the table. I picked it up and flipped through the pages, finding the entry before the day our father died. I read it silently, before letting a single tear fall from my eyes.

"What'd you find?" Bobby asked, skipping the normal questions, as always, getting straight to the point.

"The night before my father died, my mom had a nightmare, one of the rare ones, that she could actually vividly remember when she woke up. It was about a Hellhound," I said with a sob building in my chest. "Exactly 24 hours later, my father died in place of Caden."

"Did you see a Hellhound?" Dean demanded, having followed me into the kitchen. Sam, close behind.

"I can still smell the fucking canine," I moaned. I slammed the journal down on the table and looked at the clock. I had 24 hours to save my baby brother. This time, without John Winchester to swoop in and save the day.

I began to pace, even though my stomach begged me to the stop. I ignored the pain, dizziness and just generally sick feeling that had washed over me, and just concentrated on concentrating. I thought back to everything my mother had taught me, everything that she ever told me that could come to use. Then a faint thought crossed my mind. _Call your mother, you idiot. _"She might be dead," I said aloud. No one bothered to question my statement, all three knowing I was lost in my own thoughts. They all knew me well enough to know that when I was in a mood, it was best just to let me wear myself out, no matter how long it may take.

To my own surprise, though expected by the three pairs of watching eyes, my legs gave way sooner than I expected. I stumbled once, recovered, but collapsed a moment later, my heart pounding as if I had ran a marathon. A few curses later, I settled to sitting on the floor, legs crossed, my fingers tapping on the floor rhythmically. Until Dean finally got annoyed and snapped me from my almost motionless thoughts.

"Damnit, Harley, you're creeping me out!" he exclaimed, causing me to jump, as he was the first sound to break the silence in over three hours.

"Sorry," I muttered. I looked up and forced a smile, my body screaming at me to stop whatever I had been trying to do. I stood slowly, barely making it to my knees before a wave of nausea washed over me. I groaned and stayed extremely still, forcing my body to listen to my mental commands. Once my stomach stopped turning, I stood and leaned heavily on the table, Bobby's eyes locking on mine. Years of looking after my brother and I had made him almost a father to us. We never really doubted his warnings, and when he told us it was time to call it a night and get some sleep, we would do so, no questions asked. It was him who gave me the burst of strength I needed to call my mother's cell phone.

I walked into the livingroom for an ounce of privacy, despite feeling Dean's ever watchful eyes glued to my back. I dialed her number and prayed to hear her voice on the other end. Instead, as usual, I got her voicemail. Only this time, the message was different.

"It's Nikki, I can't answer my phone right now. If it's an emergency, call my daughter Harley, she can help..." my main number was then listed, followed by another message. "If my daughter is dead, call Dean Winchester. He can help..." and his current number was listed. I hung up, momentarily weak in the knees. I sat down on the couch and thought for a moment, trying to decide whether I was glad she thought high enough of me to recommend me to her 'clients' or angry that she assumed I was dead. I was surprised she listed Dean's number and not John's. The last time we spoke, even though it was 7 years ago, she always vowed to never expose the boys' numbers.

"You okay?" Dean's worried voice cut through my internal debate. I waved to show him I heard, but didn't give him the yes he had hoped for. Instead, I stood up and paced the room for a moment, before dialing my mother's number again.

At the tone, I sighed and said "Mom, it's Harley. First off, I'm alive, thank you very much for your concern," in a sarcastic tone. "But I don't know for how long. Something's happening. The dog...I saw it too. And Cadey's really sick. Really, really sick," I felt my throat tightening at the very thought of losing my baby brother. "I'm with Dean. And Sam. At Bobby's. Please, call me when you get this." I hung up, then cursed myself for forgetting the purpose behind the call. Calling once more, I left another message.

"Oh, and Mom? If you don't call me back, and something happens to Cade, I'll never forgive you, okay? Because this is bullshit. You promised to find us, and come to our aid, in the worst of cases. It's pretty sucky that I have to basically become another thing for Dean to worry himself with. You know. He's been there for us more than you have these last few years. Wake up and be a mom okay? Because I'm getting sick and tired of being a sister, a mom, a hunter, and everything else, every day. I'm only 22, mom, I should be falling in and out of love, getting arrested for speeding down the highway just for kicks, and getting hammered because I want to, not because I'm trying to drink away the memories," My stomach churned at the mere thought of liquor, "I love you mom, but stop being a hunter for a few minutes, and be a mom. We need you." I hung up and shook my head, wishing I hadn't because it sent me reeling all over again. Gasping, I sank down on the couch, letting my head fall into my hands, my stomach aching horribly, like someone had just slammed their fist into my stomach and twisted my insides all around.

I realized then, that whatever we had been attacked by, whether demonic or not, it was going to wreck havoc, in every definition of the word, and that scared me worse than any demon, ghost or creature ever could. Because to think that I could lose Caden, not in a heated fight or a hellish nightmare of a case gone wrong, but to aliments that seemed almost too human to be anything but, was something I had never even considered, not in all the years on the job. Maybe I just never saw our demise being one so simple, yet so undefined, as a mere demonic 'cold'.

* * *

_A/n;; Off the record, yes, I'm fully aware that Dean's 'brotherly obsessive traits' are pouring over, making him just a bit ooc. That gets explained in later chapters. I am not following canon, and that's my point. As stated before, it's a sidekick story, not an actual canon based fan-fiction. With that in mind, I'd love to hear from you. :) Any reviews, negative, constructive, or otherwise, are greatly appreciated! _

_Another note – I let the story take place in 2010, because I was it post-Apocalypse, but Pre-Dean going to purgatory. Mainly because I missed that season ;) _

_I hope you all enjoy! Even tho it's a bit confusing right now! :D _


	3. Chapter 2 - Conflicted Emotions

That night ended up so much longer than any of us expected. My fever broke around midnight, much to my relief. I hoped if I was recovering this quickly, Caden would too. Bobby gave me the all clear to retrieve the last of the bags from the Comet, along with the still locked box my mother had left to us a few months earlier. Caden and I were on our way to Bobby's to see if he could unlock it before everything happened.

Dean was skeptical about letting me go outside, but thankfully, Bobby talked him into it. Why Dean was suddenly so protective of me was beyond me. Dean and I had known eachother for most of my life, but he was never more than just another hunter, another ally in the nightmarish job we held. I was closer to Sam, growing up, than Dean without doubt, but lately, maybe because my mother failed to be there, Dean had taken to being the much needed, overbearing older brother. Caden never failed to question him, learning as much as he could from the older, more experienced hunter, whereas I just grumbled whenever he barked orders in my direction. Sure, Dean was very skilled and a great person to have on your side in a fight, but he could be bossy sometimes.

Sam stood behind me, a smirk on his face, as I listened in on what Dean was saying to Bobby. I felt like a kid again, spying on my parents while they discussed a hunt. Sam laughed when I leaned against the wall, shushing him.

"You're such a kid sometimes," he teased. I threw him a dirty look, but laughed right along with him.

"You sure she's okay to go outside?" Dean asked Bobby.

"Dean, it's just outside. Why are you suddenly so protective of her anyway? You never used to be," I heard Bobby retort. I could almost imagine the look on his face, because I had been wondering the same thing.

"Bobby, when was the last time you've seen her that weak and that scared?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper. I was about to say something about that, but Sam's hand slammed over my mouth, muffling my complaint. He shushed me, clearly as interested in what was going to be said next as I was.

"Never, to be honest, not since she was a little girl," Bobby answered honestly.

"Not since the night her father died. She never shows any sign of weakness, no matter how much pain she's in, her guard's always up. And she never leaves Cade's side when he's bad off, never. But today she's all over the place. Something's not right about this Bobby," Dean said.

"What do you think happened out there?" Bobby asked, "Out on Interstate 244, I mean."

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense. A dark smoke? Bobby, when we found them, it looked like they had been rotting away or something. Harley, she looked like she was dead. All I could think about was how we couldn't have gotten there late, she couldn't be dead..." his voice trailed off. I felt hot tears filling my eyes. What he said next would forever be embedded in my brain as the sweetest words I'd ever heard. "Bobby, she's the strongest girl I've ever met in my entire life. She's kind when kindness is needed, but cold, emotionless, and completely fearless when it matters most. She can take anything and use it to make hunting go her way. Even if it means dying, she'll do it, if it frees the world of one more demon."

I turned away after that, having heard enough. So that was why Dean was suddenly super protective. He was protecting me not only from whatever was out to get us, but from myself. He didn't need to say it, I somehow, just knew.

When he joined Sam and me in the livingroom, I did everything I could to arrange my facial features to represent that of smooth, cold emotions. I didn't need him thinking I had heard anything he said. Dean told Sam to see what he could dig up while we went out to the car.

The effort it took to climb down the stairs was unimaginable. Each step felt like my last. My legs ached, like I had been ran over my a truck or something. With Dean's help, however, I managed to get down the stairs in one piece.

Once by the car, Dean grabbed me by my arm and pulled me to a stop, his arms wrapping me in an awkward hug. I leaned in, amazed by the warmth coming off his body. I looked up into his green eyes, and saw a strange, lost to me, emotion in them.

"What's the hug for?" I asked, squirming a little, only because he was hugging too tightly.

"Remember the first time we ended up on a hunt together?" Dean asked, looking at me with a serious expression now.

"Yeah, it was in St. Louis, the shape shifter, right?" I said, as that was the first clear memory I had of being on a case with him and Sam. We had been after a shape shifter that was terrorizing Sam's old classmates. Caden and I were supposed to cover another case, but we were drawn to that one in particular. Not that it worked out the way we planned.

"No. It was even before that. You were probably what, 16? It was when Sam was in college. You left Caden with some of his friends for the night, and we ended up chasing after that demon, remember?" he asked. I shook my head, having no real memory of that night. Probably because it was one that I had no urge to remember. Until now, that is. "

You held your own better than I expected that night. Even when you listened to the demon tell you how much your father hated hell and how much pain he was in down there, you didn't even flinch. Even when it threw me straight across the room with just a flick of it's wrist, pinned you down where you laid. Harley, you were so brave, so completely emotionless...it was almost scary. Especially for a kid your age. And when you stabbed the thing in the chest, the look in your eyes...I never saw someone kill with that much pleasure," he said. I think that was the most I'd ever heard Dean say at once before. I blinked, taking in everything he said. I tried to remember that night, but I just couldn't. I don't really remember any night that I didn't spend hovering over Caden, waking for him to fall into a deep enough sleep to feel safe enough to get an hour or two for myself, before his nightmares would wake us both up in a cold sweat. Caden's nightmares scared me. He couldn't really remember them when he woke up, but he's scream so loud, a bone chilling scream. They always left us both exhausted and too afraid to sleep. Thinking of that, made me long to be back at my brother's side, knowing exactly where he was, knowing that should he wake in fear, I'd be right there to comfort him as I had been for the last 18 years.

"You don't remember that night, do you?" Dean asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

"Not in particular, no," I said honestly. He went to pull away, to open the trunk for me, but when he did, my knees buckled.

"I knew this was a bad idea," he muttered, pulling me up, supporting my weight like I weighed nothing.

"I need the other bags," I muttered, my fingers twisted into the thick fabric of his leather jacket. We took cautious steps, neither willing to let go of the other. I turned cautiously and unlocked the trunk, looking at the three, heavily packed duffel bags. One was Caden's, complete with weaponry, books, and god knows what else, the other two mine, one with all of our fake ids and what not, the other, full of books, and more importantly, the sealed chest my mother had mailed us.

"Two options," Dean said suddenly, evaluating the situation. "I carry the bags then come back for you, or you walk on your own," he said with a soft smile. I sighed and picked up the lightest of the bags, letting the weight redistribute across my back, leveling me out. I nodded and started taking slow, shaky steps towards the door, my legs wobbling like a newborn foal. I felt completely ridiculous.

"Give me," he said, reaching for the bag. Without thinking, he knocked me off balance and I landed painfully on my right wrist. I let my weight fall onto my knees as I nursed my injured wrist. I twitched my fingers, thankful to see that my wrist wasn't broken. Dean offered me his hand, which I took without objection, letting him pull me to my feet. With one arm wrapped protectively around my waist, the other carrying the three heavy bags, we made our ways back to the house, the steps proving impossible for my weakened legs. I sat down on the first step, struggling to catch my breath while Dean tossed the bags into the house effortlessly. He returned a moment later and scooped me up in his arms, ignoring my complaints. It wasn't until his warmth engulfed me that I realized just how cold I had been. I sank into his chest, my head falling to his shoulder, exhaustion suddenly taking over.

"Hey, don't fall asleep," he said softly, shifting my weight in his arms. He carefully walked up the stairs and used his foot to prop the door, as to not knock me against it.

"I won't," I murmured in a sleepy tone. I could almost picture him smile at that. Dean had too many years of experience being an older brother. He was great at it.

He sat me on the couch carefully, his eyes showing concern.

"Jeez, you're freezing," he murmured, his hands gripping mine tightly. I shivered against his touch, chills rippling through my body. He sat down next to me, his hands moving to my forehead. "Your fever's gone," he murmured more to himself than me. I felt my eyes closing, sleep clawing at me with more determination than I had to stay awake...

"_Harley," Caden called from his room. His voice was thick with sleep._

"_Hey," I said softly, walking into his room, flinching at the bright light's glare. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was only 10. I must have fallen asleep on the couch again. "What's wrong?"_

"_I can't sleep. The monsters are going to get me," he whined innocently. His eyes were wide, dark circles under them, making them look ten times bigger. I sank to my knees and pulled up the ends of his blankets, shining his flashlight under the bed._

"_No monsters there," I said softly with a tired smile before standing and walking to his closet, which he had insisted we padlock every night. I unlocked it and shined the light around, smiling to myself at my brother's innocent expression. "Nothing here either," I cooed. He smiled at me innocently and pointed at the windows._

"_Are the salt lines still there?" he asked sweetly. I walked to the window and nodded. _

"_All safe, Cadey," I chided. He smiled at me and patted the spot next to him. _

"_Read me a story?" he asked. I bit back a groan and walked over to the bookshelf, grabbing the first book my fingers touched. _

"_How's um..." I looked at the book with wide eyes. "Not this one," I muttered. I wasn't about to read my brother a scary story before bed. I'd made that mistake too many times before._

"_How about you read the poem mom used to?" he asked innocently. It took me a moment to remember which one, but when I did, I smiled to myself. I didn't need to read it from the old nursery book, I knew the poem by heart, as our mother had both read and sang it to us from the moment we entered the world._

"_Will you __walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,  
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;  
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,  
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there."  
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,  
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."_

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;  
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.  
"There are pretty _curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,  
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"  
__Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,  
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"_

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do,  
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?  
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;  
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?"  
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,  
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,  
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!  
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,  
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."  
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say,  
And bidding you _good morning now, I'll call another day."_

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,  
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:  
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,  
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.  
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,  
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;  
Your robes are green and purple - there's a crest upon your head;  
Your eyes are like _the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"_

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,  
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;  
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,  
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue -  
Thinking only of her crested head - poor foolish thing! At last,  
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.  
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,  
Within his little parlour - but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear _little children, who may this story read,  
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:  
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,  
And take a __lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly." I finished with a soft kiss to the top of the head, closing the door quietly behind me, letting the lights remain on, knowing from experience, that if I shut off the lights, he would wake almost immediately, too scared to even cry out. _

_I sat on the floor, my back against his door, a handgun, loaded with rock salt filled bullets. My mom always warned me to be prepared for anything. Ever since our dad died, she refused to let me go unaware to the dangers of the world. Even though I was young, I had good aim, thanks to my mom taking the time to teach me to shoot a gun. _

_I must have fallen asleep, because I jerked away my fingers twitching against the gun the moment my brother's fearful screams broke through. I kicked his door open and went to his side, realizing in an __instant that it was just another nightmare. That night was one of many sleepless nights we'd share in the years to come._

I jerked awake, my heart pounding in my chest. Blinking, I realized Dean was asleep next to me, his arm still slung across my shoulders. It took me a few moments to remember everything, but when I did, I was grateful for the silent comfort Dean was able to provide. I carefully moved his arm and stood up, feeling stronger than I did hours before. I grabbed my phone off the table and wandered into the dark kitchen. I turned on the light and sat at the table, my hands still shaking slightly, gooseflesh covering my bare arms. I couldn't remember when I had shrugged out of my thick sweatshirt, but I regretted having done so as soon as I was away from Dean's supernatural warmth.

I turned on my phone and went through the missed calls. Most were just calls tipping me off about a case here or there, but one stood out. It was from my mother.

"Harley, you better still be alive," it started, her voice tired, thick, her Southern accent clear as day. I smiled at the sound of her voice. "If you get this before it's too late, go check on Cadey. I don't know what you're doing, and god help me, if you're getting laid while your brother suffers, damnit." she was quiet for a few moments before continuing. "I think I know what happened. Bobby called and left a message filling me in on the details you left out. Black smoke? Mystery illness? Harley, did you see the Hellhound yet? I hope to god you didn't. Anyway, it's a demonic disease hands down. The problem is, is there's no reason a human should be this badly effected by it. However, if it is, then the only way to cure your brother is to find the source. That or pray that God's upstairs listening. And listen to me, Harley Mae, if you ever tell me how to do my job again, I will personally send you to hell myself. Got it? You do as I say. I told you, call the boys if you ever find yourself screwed. Obviously your brother had the sense to follow orders. I love you, my screwed up little daughter, but you have to stop thinking you know everything. Call me."

I sighed bitterly. My mother was never one to hold her tongue. I realized then, that I hadn't checked on Caden in far too long. I sat my phone down, making a mental note to call my mother back in the morning, since last I knew, she was on the east coast. I shivered as I walked towards the room where Caden was sleeping. I pushed open the door and flipped on the light, no longer worried about waking up my baby brother. I blinked a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the light, before realizing that the room was empty. My heart started racing as that realization sank in. I turned quickly and walked into the livingroom, pushing Dean over on the couch with enough force to wake him up.

"What?" he asked, seeing the expression on my face.

"Tell me Sam's with Caden," I said in a soft, but harsh tone.

"I dunno," Dean murmured, still half asleep.

"Dean," I moaned. I pulled his arm, just as I had so many years ago, when I was still a kid. "Wake up, Cade's missing," I growled. That woke him up. He followed me into the empty room and looked around while I wandered through the house. There weren't that many rooms. Sam was asleep on the floor in Bobby's office, his long legs nearly killing me when I scrambled for the light switch. He winced at the sudden bright light. I looked around the room and saw that Sam was not with Cade.

"Get up, Cade's missing," I ordered harsher than I intended.

"What?" Sam asked, getting up quicker than his brother had. He too, went into the empty room. I grumbled under my breath, but let out a startled cry when Bobby showed up out of no where behind me.

"What's all the racket about?" he grumbled, clearly annoyed that we woke him up.

"Cade's missing," I said.

"There's sulfur by the window," Dean said suddenly standing directly behind me. I felt my heartbreak. I literally felt my heart break. I sank to my knees, taking a moment to let the thought sink in. Let the emotions change from fear and loss into anger and rage, enough to get me through the fight. I could handle the fear later. I felt my hands ball into fists, and before I could stop myself, I stood and punched a whole into the wall. Bobby said nothing, just moved aside, letting me bolt past him.

I didn't get far anyway. I didn't need to. My phone was ringing, and that was enough to stop me.

I looked at the caller id and gasped...

**Mom Calling**


	4. Chapter 3 - Demons, Twists, and Favors

"Mom," I whispered, sinking into the nearest chair.

"Harley, tell me exactly what's going on," she sounded breathless, like she had just got done running from something.

"Cadey's missing," I moaned. I felt awful. I'd lost Caden too many times before, but never under such circumstances.

"What do you mean, Cade's missing?" she asked cautiously. I put the phone on speaker and began pacing, my head hurting from the very thought.

"I fell asleep. We all did. It's been a long week, okay? And when I woke up, I listened to your voicemail, and realized I hadn't checked on Cade yet. I'm so sorry," I whispered, "I screwed up."

"No, sweetheart, you're tired. The boys are tired. Bobby's tired. No one can watch Cade every waking moment of everyday. Did you or the boys find anything in the room?" she said, her voice too gentle.

"Sulfur," Sam answered for me.

"Good, that's a start."

The voice didn't feel like my mother's. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of doom.

"Mom?" I asked carefully, throwing a look at Dean, who quickly made his way over to me.

"Yes?" she answered.

"When Daddy died, you told me something very important. You told me it after you and John cleaned up the mess. What did you tell me?" She was the only one who'd know the answer to that. It was never written down. It was the only thing I could think of that only she would know, aside from myself.

"Harley, this is no time to ask silly questions like that," she said lightly, her voice gentle, but stern.

"Mom, what did you tell me?" I repeated, my hands locked on the shotgun in my pocket.

"I told you to stay with Dean, and let him explain what happened to you," she said simply.

"Wrong answer. You're not my mother," I growled. My mother would never have answered that way. My mother knew, if I asked that question, there was one answer I needed to hear, to know it was really her on the other end of the line. It was code for 'Mom, I want to believe it's you who's talking to me, but I need to know for sure'. "Who are you, and what did you do to my brother?"

Sam let out a low, almost silent growl, his eyes flashing with fire.

"Ah, smart child," the voice on the other end cooed. "But you're wrong none the less." The line went dead. I cursed bitterly, grabbing the phone and throwing it so hard, it shattered against the floorboards. I took a deep breath and counted to ten, letting the anger subside enough for me to get a grip.

"Sulfur and demonic virus thing. Think Harley, think," I said outloud. I paced back and forth for a moment, before something clicked.

"Let me see your dad's journal," I said suddenly. "And every book on witchcraft you can find."

"Why?" Sam asked, tossing me the book he had been reading.

"Because I might, MIGHT know what is going on," I said, stressing the word might.

"You think it's a witch?" Bobby asked skeptically.

"Not exactly. At least, not just a witch," I said, beginning to pace again. "I know my mother's voice. Whatever...whoever that was, they were able to mimic my mother so completely, that if it wasn't for the tone in her voice, I wouldn't have even noticed. That and she called me 'sweetheart'," I flinched at the word. "My mother would call me anything before calling me that."

"So that was what tipped you off?" Sam asked, standing by the bookshelf looking for any book that might help.

"Not only that. Call it woman's intuition, but when she just happened to call right after us realizing Cade was missing?" I said slowly, thinking about it as I said it "It made me wonder how she knew."

Dean dropped John's journal down in front of me, sitting opposite of me at the table.

"So what, you're going to try and find some mystery creature?" Dean asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"I have a couple theories," I said slowly, reading over a few random entries. "See, the 'plague' should have been the first sign. I've never encountered anything like it before, and I'm willing to bet other hunters haven't either. So what if it's not a plague, but a bit of black magic? I'm willing to bet, if we had torn the car apart the night it happened, we'd have found a hex bag somewhere. Think about it – I can name about three dozen demons, creatures and otherwise that would gratefully accept any of our heads as a bargaining chip," I said, writing a few things down while I went. "And what better way than to completely disable us?"

"Then there's the sulfur," Sam reminded me, sitting down with a stack of books.

"Which would mean it'd have to be a demon. But don't all witches get sucked into working with demons at one point or another?" I asked as I tried to connect the dots. A name popped into my head once I did. "Sacoriah," I whispered. A feeling washed over me, and I had a sick feeling I was right.

"Who?" Dean asked, his eyes pinching together.

"She, he, it, we don't know, we never encountered it before. But it's similar to Asag, a demon known to cause sickness," I said slowly, cautiously. "My mother had an entry about it. Sacoriah is supposed to have worked hand in hand with witches back in the 1800s, and always targeted people with similar traits. Normally people who have nothing but their family to lose," I continued. "What doesn't make sense, is how that ties in with the interstate or Tulsa," I said, looking at the map Sam had spread out in front of him.

"Maybe there's something haunting I244?" Dean suggested.

"I don't think so. If you go through the records, there's no weird occurrences there, except me and Cade," I said, shaking my head.

"Unless they never found any bodies?" Sam pointed out.

"Maybe," I said. I got up and walked over to the window, wishing my brother was with me, instead of god knows where. I jumped when my other, other phone started vibrating in my pocket. No one really had that number.

I looked at the caller id and flinched.

"Cade," I whispered, waiting to hear if it was really him.

"Hars," he replied. He sounded like he was in pain.

"Where are you?" I asked, knowing better than to get my hopes up. Dean stood behind me, his eyes silently warning me to be cautious.

"I244. I think. Listen, this place is crazier than hell. Major cock blocks though," he said. There was a muffled sound, then he continued by saying "You have to find me."

"I will, I promise," I said before hanging up. The last statement was part of a trap, I knew that, but so did Cade. However, what stood out was 'crazier than hell,' and 'cock blocks'.

"What?" Dean asked as I pushed past him. I went through the bags, cursing bitterly.

"Where is the damn box?" I practically yelled.

"That box?" Sam asked, pointing at the box, which sat on the windowsill across the room.

"Who moved it?"

No one answered. I pushed the thought aside, and walked over to the ugly, cursed piece of wood.

"Cock Blocks – Lock Box," I whispered. "Crazier than hell, what could you have meant, Cade?" I cursed myself for not remembering every code we ever came up with. "Crazier than hell..."

"_If we ever get screwed over by demons and need a way of warning the other of a trap, we need a code word," Caden said, looking over mom's journal for the millionth time. _

"_Crazier than hell?" I suggested. "Since nothing is crazier than a demon trying to trick us into using one of us for a trap?" I added with a laugh._

"_Sure," Caden said, scribbling it down. "So we have, jesus, 157 code words now."_

"_Hopefully we'll remember them all, huh?" I laughed. We drank our coffees with smiles, eager for the quiet brake in the action. _

"So the box, and a trap," I murmured. "And I244. This doesn't make any sense."

"Try opening the box?" Sam suggested, looking at the wooden piece of shit.

"I can't, that's why we brought it with us in the first place," I groaned. "We tried everything. It won't open."

"Look," Dean said, pointing at the letters engraved on the side. "RMD"

"Ryan Michael Davis. We already figured that much out. The box must have belonged to our father," I said with a shake of my head. "We just can't get the damn lock off. We even went as far as to try and spit it open with an ax," I sighed.

"Don't you have the key?" Dean asked.

"Why would I?" I replied, confused.

"The night your dad died, didn't our dad give you some sort of key or something?"

I tried to remember back to that night, but years ago I vowed to never think of it again. My memories were fuzzy, only brief glimpses and the screams. God, the screams still haunted my dreams.

"_Daddy!" Caden sobbed bitterly into my chest. His tiny hands gripped tightly at the material of my shirt. Dean stood with one hand on my shoulder, the other wrapped tightly around his gun. _

"_Shh, shh, Cade, it's okay," I whispered over and over again. "Uncle John's going to save him, I promise."_

"_Don't make a promise you can't keep," Dean warned quietly so only I could hear._

"_But Harley! It has daddy!" Cade sobbed. He pulled away and tried to run towards the house, but Sam stopped him, scooping him up into his strong arms. I watched in terror, waiting for the screams to stop. _

_John walked out nearly two hours later, his face drawn in defeat. My mother was at his side, her hands covered in blood, her face showing no emotion. _

I shivered at the memories. I tried my hardest to remember what came next, but all I could remember was Caden's broken howl.

"I can't remember," I sighed. I walked over to my bag and rummaged through the blood stained shirt, suddenly aware that I would have to definitely go shopping before the next case. That was when I realized that I hadn't showed in almost a week. I wrinkled my nose as the thought made my cringe.

"Maybe a shower will help," I muttered, grabbing my last pair of clean clothes out of the bag.

"You're going to take a shower, while your brother's missing?" Bobby nearly growled at me.

"Yes," I said with a shrug. "My stench alone would tip whoever it is off before we even got anywhere near them."

"She's right," Sam couldn't help but laugh.

I sighed when I realized my jacket was covered with holes, blood and god knows what else. I made a mental note to replace it whenever I got a chance. I gathered the rest of my things and made my way to the bathroom, suddenly overly aware of the aching in my bones. _A hot shower will definitely help with that, _I thought as I ran the water as hot as it would go.

I stood under the hot spray for a few minutes, just letting the heat ease the ache. It didn't help much, so eventually I gave up and washed the dirt from my hair. Disgusted with myself for letting myself get that gross looking, I vaguely wondered why no one pointed it out. Even though we were hunters, we had hygiene, you know?

As I was washing the dirt from my body, I realized how thin I had become. I was never the petite, skinny girl people dreams of being. I had a thicker, muscular build that I took pride in, or at least I used to. Now I just looked like a bag of bones. I grumbled to myself, softly wiping the dirt from the various cuts and bruises that covered my body. Deep scars ran along my arms, legs and back, all from one fight or another. Even after years on the job, they still stung when the soap hit them. I looked at one scar in particular. It was a deep, long slice across my abdomen. I had received that one two years prior. I almost lost my life that night, and probably would have, had Cade not been thinking on his feet. He surprised me with his knowledge about stitching and patching people up. He was good for it too. We didn't need hospitals when that kid was around.

The thought made me miss him all the more. God help me, if anything happens to him, I'll kill every son of a bitch that gets in my way. That kid was all I had left to fight for.

I stepped out of the hot shower, steadying myself with one hand planted firmly on the damp wall. Moving carefully, I bent down and picked up my only pair of clean pants – a pair of skintight leather skinny jeans. I only ever wore them when I was working my magic at the bars, because they were easy to move in, but sexy enough to get free drinks and easy wins. I groaned when I righted myself, pain sheering through my back. I couldn't remember the last time my back didn't ache. I pulled on a tight fitted black tank, annoyed that all my more practical clothes had either been ruined or were beyond filthy. I didn't bother trying to pull my shoes on yet, I was loathing the thought of having to bend down and fuck with the knee high, heelless boots.

Brushing the knots out of my hair in the steamy mirror, I clearly saw how pale and ghostly my face looked. Dark circles rimmed my eyes, a few scratches made my face look older, more tired. Debating on pulling my hair back or not, I settled on letting it fall down my back, too sore to attempt anything better. I quickly slicked on some eyeliner, in hope of balancing my facial features just a bit.

When I walked barefoot out of the bathroom, I could feel eyes trailing after me. I turned to see Dean observing, a crooked grin on his lips.

"Shut up, unless you want to do my laundry," I grumbled, dropping to the couch to get the tiresome task of getting my boots zipped up all the way out of the way sooner, rather than later.

"Who knew you had a slutty side," Dean chided.

"Who knew you were such a perv," I teased with good nature. He laughed at that.

"I'm gonna go get some grub, why don't you and book geek try and find a starting point?" Dean suggested, grabbing the keys to the Impala off the table.

"Fine, but bring me back a coffee, black," I said with a sideways smirk.

"You want anything to eat?" he asked me. I felt my stomach turn at the very thought of food.

"No thanks," I muttered, silently telling my stomach to stop doing flips.

"You have to eat, you know," Bobby scolded from the doorway. I hadn't been aware that he was there until then.

"I'm not hungry," I said truthfully. That got a worried look from Bobby. He knew I could eat. Like a horse for that matter.

"You haven't eaten in almost a week though," Dean stated, looking down at me with worried green eyes.

"I don't think I could keep anything down if I wanted to," I muttered. "But get me some plain. Like a bagel or something," I caved. I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere if I didn't agree to force something into my system.

"Awesome," Dean said sarcastically, like I just asked him to go out of his way for me.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Nothing," he grumbled with a sulking look. I smiled brightly and laughed to myself as he walked out the front door.

Bobby went about his business while Sam and I took over the living room table, both passing books, notes and the laptop back and forth.

"Dean really had a thing for you," Sam said suddenly. I looked up and saw his hazel eyes locked on my face.

"His instinct to protect are just in overdrive," I retorted.

"No. I know Dean. There's something about you," Sam said carefully.

"Whatever. You know how it's always been between Dean and me. We'll get that soft moment, then the whole thing ends with us at eachother's throats," I laughed.

"Maybe," Sam didn't seem convinced.

We spent the next few minutes in silence. I couldn't help but sense that Sam had more he wanted to say. I set the books aside, coming up more or less blank. I looked at Sam, who looked frustrated.

"No luck?" I asked softly.

"None. It doesn't make sense, Sacoriah is practically undetectable," Sam muttered, pushing the books aside with frustration.

"What we do know - ," I started.

"I know, I know," Sam waved his hand, cutting me off. I gave him a funny look, trying to read into the troubled expression that masked his face.

"What's wrong, Sam?" I asked softly, letting my eyes rest of the book laid out in front of him.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he muttered. "I'm fine."

"Just like how I'm fine?" I asked, a smile crossing my lips. "Under the best of circumstances, neither of us are fine," I amended quickly.

True, but nothing's wrong, really," he said, shaking his head, causing his mop of long, dark brown hair to fly wildly.

"If you say so," I said at the exact same time "Fade to Black" by Metallica started playing. I jumped up and rummaged through the bags, trying to find Caden's phone. We purposely set different ringtones to all the phones, so when one rang, we didn't spend an hour trying to figure out which one it was. I found it in a second flat and flipped it open, not bothering to check the caller id. Only a handful of people had that number, all of which were hunters.

"'ello?" I said cautiously, overly aware that I was answering my brother's phone.

"Harley?" a voice came. "I thought I called Caden's phone?"

"You did," I said. "Caden's...um, not available right now," I tripped over my words trying to find an easy excuse.

"Well whatever. It's Cody Johnson, remember me by chance?" he asked.

"The hunter that almost got me and Caden arrested for murder? On several occasions? How could I forget?" I grumbled. Cody was one of those amateurs who thought they knew everything about everything.

"Well I need a favor, and it's right up your ally," he said slowly. "I need you to take over a case for me."

A favor. A favor for someone my mother used to count on and cover for for so many years. A favor, right when my life was falling apart at the seams. No, I don't want to do anyone anymore favors. But instead of saying so, I give in to my mother's teachings and say "What kind of case?" Because you know, hunters never run from a fight. Never turn down a case, no matter how full their plates are. Or at least, that's how my mother raised me.

* * *

_A/n;; Just want to thank those who have taken the time to read and review! Every review means the world to me! Really! As always, any suggestions are greatly appreciated! Also note, I bumped the story back a year. Instead of 2011, it takes place in 2010. ;) I have my reasons.  
_


	5. Chapter 4 - One Normal Morning Please

"What kind of case?" I asked, cursing myself the moment the words came out of my mouth.

"Your favorite," he chuckled. I didn't have a favorite baddy. Unless you're talking semi-tamed Hellhounds or trapped demons. Otherwise I hated 'em all the same.

"Werewolves?" I asked hopefully. Werewolves I could handle.

"Sorta," he said, careful with his tone now. "They're werewolves, yes, but here's the problem..." his voice trialed off.

"Don't say it," I muttered. I had a gut feeling I knew exactly what was coming next.

"The only way to get there is by plane."

"Are you out of your freaking mind?" I practically screamed. Sam was watching me with intent eyes, his expression mirroring my own.

"What? Afraid of a little air time?" Cody chided.

"We don't fly. It's rule number 1," I barked. "Anyway, where the hell is this thing?"

"London," he said with a sigh. "I've pulled all the strings I can, but we're almost out of time. You and your brother need to get out there as fast as you can," he went onto explaining the statistics and the numbers, none of which convinced me enough to desert my current job and jump a plane to the freaking United Kingdom.

"Sorry, Cody, we only cover national cases. You know that. I don't know a hunter in their right mind stupid enough to take this case, probably why you had to sink as low as to call me," I finally sighed. "Listen, I have enough to deal with right now," I added. My stomach felt like it was being cut to ribbons and it was taking all I had left not to lose it all over Bobby's floor.

"Harley, your mother taught you better than that," Cody cooed.

"My mother's not in charge of me or my decisions anymore. I only cover national cases. And that's on a good day. Find someone else," I muttered, grabbing hold of the wall for leverage.

"You don't sound too good. That weak at the thought of flying?" Cody asked, his tone suddenly changing.

"Yeah, you could say that," I muttered. "Listen, I gotta go. If the case is still open in a few weeks, call me, I'll see if I can't find someone to take care of it." I hung up before he could say anything else. The floor started to tilt under my feet, and with one careful movement, I allowed myself to sink against the wall, a groan passing through my lips before I could stop it.

"Hey, easy," Sam said, immediately at my side with a bucket and a damp rag. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, willing myself to keep what little was left in my stomach down.

"I hate life so fucking much right now," I muttered. I felt him press a glass to my lips, trying to force me to drink. I swatted his hand away with as much strength as I could muster, which wasn't much. He gentle tilted my head back, forcing me to swallow at least a mouthful of water. As soon as it was in, it came right back up, bitter and acidic.

"Urgh," I groaned, letting my body slump against his. When the door slammed open, I attempted to lift my head with little luck.

"What's wrong with her?" a husky voice droned. I tried to open my mouth to say something, but all I managed was a nearly unheard squeak.

"Not sure exactly," Sam said softly, keeping his voice low for my benefit.

"Harley?" Dean's voice sounded concerned. I forced my eyes open, groaning at the tilting, turning shape before me.

"Her fever's back," Sam noted, his hands feeling like ice against my flesh.

"Guess that means we're flying solo tonight. Bobby'll have to watch over out for her," Dean said gently.

"No," I moaned. "No."

"Harley, you can't go anywhere like this," Sam said softly, his tone too careful, like he was talking to a wounded animal.

"Sam?" I asked with a soft tone.

"What?"

"Shut up,"

I thought about it for a minute, trying to figure out which would make more sense. The bouts of being sick came and went so fast, that it seemed unpredictable and impossible to gauge. Even as I was thinking about it, my vision began to clear and my head stopped feeling like it was a thousand pounds of dead weight.

"We know we have to get to I244. But here's the thing, we don't know if whatsitsname is after just Cade and me, or if it'll effect the two of you too," I said thinking harder than I had for a long time. "And if it's after the two of you, it's not going to stop until we're all half dead, separated and totally useless. We'll have to hit it where it hurts," I added, trying to think of what my mother had found out about it years ago. I remember it being written down in the journal, but it was only bits and pieces. Like any demon, iron wards it off, and salt protects against it touching us, but as to how we kill it, that was never really figured out.

"So basically we're damned if we do, damned if we don't," Dean sighed.

"Not completely," I objected. "I might have an idea."

I never really prayed before. Mainly due to the fact that I never believed in Angels or God or anything of the such until I met Castiel a few months prior. Even then, I didn't totally believe he was real, even though I had seen him with my own eyes, felt his power, and seen what he was capable of. So as I sat there, crumpled on the floor next to Sam, my fingers tracing circles into the fabric of his shirt, just to keep myself sane, as I prayed to the only angel I had faith in, I felt as if it was a lost cause. But that didn't stop me. If I'd learned anything in the years spent hunting things that no one else would believe were real, I learned that sometimes you just have to have a little faith.

"Harley," his voice came, thick and raspy, a voice that I never felt so happy to hear in my entire life.

"Cas," Dean said with a strange expression on his face. Castiel ignored Dean and stood over me, his eyes a mix of confusion and concern.

"You've never prayed to me before," he stated. I looked up and let my eyes settle on his face. I'd never prayed to anyone before, I wanted to say, but I didn't, in fear that my lack of faith would cause him to ignore my next question.

"I need your help. Actually, we need your help," I said slowly, cautiously.

"What kind of help?" he asked. "I'm fighting a war, Harley," his tone was annoyed at best.

"How do you kill Sacoriah?" I asked. His eyes widened at the sound of the name.

"You can't," he said in a breathless tone. " Sacoriah represents death of the last thing you have to live for," he continued.

"What about the box? Cade said something about it," I pointed to the box that now sat unopened on the table. Castiel went over to it and looked at it, his eyes growing even wider.

"Impossible," he muttered.

"Care to fill us in?" Dean asked, irritated about being left out of the conversation.

"That box, how did you obtain it?" Cas asked me, his eyes still wide, though showing no clear emotion.

"My mother sent in a few months ago, I think," I said. "It showed up after one of our cases. We just assumed..." I let the statement fall off.

"This box...It's ancient. It holds great power to those who successfully open it. I was under the impression it was destroyed years ago," he murmured.

"It should have been. My father had it – at least, that's what we guess," I said, confused.

"Whatever the case, Harley, this box holds the power to destroy the Sacoriah," Cas said, though his tone sounded disappointed, rather than thrilled. "If you can open it."

"It's just a locked box, how hard can it be?" Sam asked, fidgeting where he sat.

"It's a powerful box locked by a powerful God," Castiel said simply. I blinked, and before my eyes even opened again, he was gone, the box still locked on the table.

"Well that narrows things down," Dean muttered, looking at the box in disgust.

"I have a feeling it'll open when we need it to most," I said with a shrug. "In the mean time, let's figure out a game plan. Because the longer Caden is gone, the more crazier I'm going to go," I added.

Since my body wasn't trying to rip itself apart, we decided to hit the books again. It was growing late in the early morning, and none of us really got a sound sleep in the last week, so we were all growing more and more annoyed, and less attentive as the hours passed. Somewhere about 8 in the morning, Bobby finally gave up and sent us all to bed. With a chorus of groaned and grumbles, we all agreed. I ended up on the couch with Dean's arm wrapped around me. Sam laid stretched out on the floor, no one too eager to let the others out of their sight. I, being more exhausted than ever, fell asleep without even fully laying down.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus

_omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_  
_infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_  
_omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._  
_Ergo draco maledicte_  
_et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te._  
_cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_  
_eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare.  
Vade, Satana, inventor et magister_  
_omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._  
_Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_  
_contremisce et effuge, invocato a_  
_nobis sancto et terribili nomine,_  
_quem inferi tremunt._  
_Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._  
_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_  
_omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_  
_infernalis adversarii,omnis legio,_  
_omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._  
_Ergo draco maledicte_  
_et omnis legio diabolica_  
_adjuramus te._  
_Cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_  
_eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._  
_Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire_  
_te rogamus, audi nos." _

_I'd seen my mother exorcise things before. Demons obviously. But never anything like this. Never anything this powerful. _

_Then it turned on her. When she turned around, her eyes were black as night. Her voice no longer her own..._

"Wake up," the voice barked loudly, pushing me off of them. I hit the cold floor, yelping with surprise. That was when my mouth was met with a foot.

"Move you big feet," I muttered, turning away from Sam's seemingly oversized foot. I pushed myself up, and looked at Dean, who was rubbing his neck with his hands.

"What the hell?" I asked as I sat up straighter, trying to ease the stiffness from my back.

"Next time you go dream crazy, give me a heads up," Dean muttered, his neck a deep purple color.

"Sorry," I murmured, standing slowly, trying to untangle my legs from Sam's. Sam stood up, rubbing his side where my knees had connected with his ribs.

"We have to stop trying to sleep in tight quarters," he groaned. I couldn't help but laugh at that. Ever since my father died Caden and I made an effort to sleep in the tightest quarters possible, normally our car, because it left way less room for anything to get at us.

I wandered into the kitchen, fully aware that I was starving. For the first time in a week, I actually wanted to eat. I opened the fridge and cringed. The fridge was disgusting. I made a point to clean it out as quietly as possible, but ended up calling attention to myself none the less.

"Are you cleaning?" Sam asked, still semi asleep, as he rubbed his eyes.

"I can't stand a dirty kitchen," I said innocently. Which was probably why Caden always made a habit of checking us into motels without fridges.

"I'm going to guess you're feeling better?" he asked as he grabbed a freshly cleaned cup and poured a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, for now," I said, wiping the last of the...whatever it was, from the inside of the fridge. "Don't drink all the coffee," I added. I was craving a cup. Much to my surprise.

"What are you doing?" a new voice came. I looked up with a sheepish grin. Bobby was watching me with wide eyes.

"Sorry," I laughed. "You know how I am about kitchens,"

"So instead of eating like a normal person, you cleaned my kitchen?" he grumbled.

"Yupp," I laughed. I tossed the rag into the sink, making a mental note to wash it later. I grabbed what looked like a bagel from the bag Dean had brought in last night, and smelled it. It still looked eatable. I smiled widely, my stomach growling with anticipation.

"Oh look who's finally eating!" Dean beamed. "It's your turn to get food," he added with a grin.

"Find my keys and I will," I laughed. It was weird. I almost couldn't believe how natural everything felt. Like it was any other morning.

"Where C-" I stopped when reality finally came back to me. The night before finally came rushing back, and my appetite left as quickly as it had came. I dropped the bagel and leaned over the sink, my stomach suddenly failing me.

"Whoa tiger," Dean said softly, laying a reassuring hand on my back.

"I'd love one normal morning," I grumbled. "One morning where I didn't wake up wondering what was going to happen next."

"We all want that," Dean said with little sympathy. I sighed and pulled away, remembering that my keys were tossed on the mantle the night before. As far as I knew anyway.

I walked over to the mantle and cursed. My keys were no where in sight.

"Who took my keys?" I asked with a grunt. I was tired of people moving my things, especially my car keys. It was the biggest argument between Caden and I; he'd move my keys and I'd spazz.

"Mantle," Sam called from his spot in the kitchen.

"They're not here," I called back.

"The floor maybe?" he suggested. I looked around, but my keys were no where.

"Dean, give me your keys," I finally decided to try. I knew from experience that the odds odds of Dean letting anyone drive the Impala were unlikely at best.

"You're lucky I'm hungry and too hung over to drive," he grunted as he tossed the keys to me. That surprised me more than anything. I didn't even remember Dean drinking the night before.

"You good?" I asked him. He looked oddly pale. He nodded and sat down, a beer in one hand, the remote in the other.

"Get me pie," he added as I grabbed my wallet from my bag.

"Naturally," I couldn't help but laugh.

"And don't crash my car," he said. His expression changed while he thought about it. "Actually, I'll come with," he said, probably convincing himself that I'd crash the Impala the first chance I got.

"Well if we're making it a whole big deal..." I let my sentence drag on, flashing a smile in Sam's direction. Nothing was worse than being in a car alone with Dean, when he wasn't driving.

"Sure," Sam said, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair.

I shivered the moment we were outside, suddenly wishing I had sprung for a new jacket prior to everything happening. I couldn't exactly walk into a store with a bloodstained, tattered jacket, and it was too late to find one now. Rubbing my hands against my arms, I opened the driver's side door and slid in. Personally, I wasn't a fan of the Impala. Beautiful car, yes, but way too noisy for our particular careers.

"Don't touch the radio," Dean immediately reprimanded the second my hands were about to change the channel.

"In the famous words of Dean Winchester, 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole'" I laughed.

"Hey!" Dean grumbled. I popped out the Metallica tape with pleasure. I sat it aside and let the silence fill the car before digging my own tape out of the backpack Sam was holding open for me. Popping it in, I smiled as 'Living on a prayer' filled the car. Ah, I loved me some Bon Jovi in the morning.

I carefully pulled out of the lot, listening to the Impala purr. I now saw why Dean loved the car so much.

I didn't want gas station food again, so after remembering that I had one working credit card left, I decided to drive down to a low scale diner, eager to get some real food for once. As we pulled onto a busy road, I realized that despite the music, the car was oddly quiet. I thought maybe the boys had fallen asleep, but that wasn't the case. Dean was singing along to the song, completely off key, and Sam was reading the book that was open on his lap, but for some reason, I couldn't comprehend the words being said.

"Watch out!" Dean suddenly exclaimed. I saw the big rig swerve into our lane, but with traffic on either side, I couldn't get us out of the way quick enough. Slamming the brakes and attempting an impossible half circle, the truck collided with the side the car.

The jolt took the breath out of me, and in seconds, I thought for sure we were about to die.


	6. Chapter 5 - Weirder By The Moment

"Wake up!" a voice yelped, hands clamping down over my wrists. My eyes jerked open, and in a moment of blind confusion, I find myself screaming wildly, my hands twisting out of the iron grip.

"Whoa, hey, chill," a strong, rough voice came, another set of hands locking around my waist, pulling me away from whoever had my wrists.

It took all of three minutes to finally snap back into reality. Still hazy and convinced we had just been in a car accident, it took another ten to stop my entire body from shaking so violently, it's a wonder I didn't fall apart at the seams.

"Better?" Sam asked, pressing a hot cup of coffee into my hands. I shrugged, not entirely convinced. I looked at my phone, once more trying to convince myself that what had just happened had been a dream, nothing more, nothing less.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, rubbing my wrists with my hands. They were lightly bruised, thanks to Dean's iron grip. Somewhere between the 'car crash' and waking up, I had started shaking him with my fingers digging into his collarbone. From the bruises, I'd say my grip was pretty damn tight. I couldn't wrap my head around it though. I'd had vivid dreams before, but nothing that clear, nothing that real.

"_Dean? Dean!" I cried, shaking him violently. Blood poured from the deeply embedded piece of glass gutting from his chest. He tried to say something, but it was muffled by the sound of bent metal and spinning tires. "Hang in there, Dean, stay with me," I cried. I was vaguely aware that my legs were pinned to the dash, hot blood covering them. With a painful twist, I turned to see Sam laying motionlessly, his neck positioned in a less than possible angle._

"_Damnit, Sammy, don't you dare be dead," I whispered, using Dean's petname for him, in hope that hearing it come from someone else's mouth would cause him to come back to us. "Don't you dare die, you don't get to die! Not now!" I begged._

_Pain. Bright lighted, unbearable pain. I tried to move, but bloodloss was taking it's toll. I looked around and saw it. Clear as day, bigger than anything I'd ever seen in my entire life – and I'd seen a lot of big things in my life – standing outside the car, it's dark eyes showing nothing but a burning yearning for death._

"Hars?" a voice broke through the memories. I blinked and saw Sam's hand waving in front of my face, causing my head to swim. I grabbed his wrist and lowered his hand, nodding once to let him know I was with him. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breathing was coming in rushed, painful gasps, but I was there.

"Did you hear a word I just said?" he asked.

"Huh?" I asked, blinking again, trying to recall the last thing he said.

"I said, if we're going to make it to Tulsa before the sun sets, we're going to have to leave soon," he said.

"Alright, give me like, a half," I said, getting up slowly, rubbing the back of my head.

"You good?" Dean asked as I passed him on my way to the bathroom.

"Yeah, why does everyone keep asking me that?" I asked, feeling my eyes widen against my own will.

"Because you look like you just woke up from a night of partying," Dean suggested. I went to punch his arm in response, but wound up on the floor at his feet instead. Whether I misjudged the distance or not, I wasn't sure. It took me a whole minute to realize I was on the floor though.

"Are you drunk?" Dean asked, completely serious.

"Not that I remember," I muttered, pulling myself back to my feet.

"Okay?" Dean didn't seem convinced.

I made a beeline to the bathroom, my shirt already over my head. Running a hot shower, I decided once and for all, to get my shit together and find my brother. Though he'd been gone for under 24 hours, it felt like a lifetime. To me, it was. Getting my pants off proved to be more difficult. You'd think after passing out drunk on a number of occasions, I'd know by now not to sleep in leather pants. Once they were off, I stepped into the steaming water, this time, allowing it to work it's wonders. For some reason, a hot shower always seemed to get me into the right frame of mind.

I wrapped one of the thicker towels around my thin frame and wandered from the bathroom in search of a semi-clean pair of jeans, even if they weren't my own. From previous stays at Bobby's, I was hoping to find a pair of jeans or even pajama pants that weren't completely torn to shreds somewhere in the semi-cluttered house. To my surprise, I found a pair hung up in the spare closet. Eagerly, I grabbed them off the hanger and padded through the house, barefoot, I walked over to where our bags were tossed and tried to find a clean shirt.

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked, coming up behind me. Had I not been expecting it, I might have lost my grip on my towel, but I had prepared myself for someone sneaking up on me.

"A clean shirt. I'm tired of trying to put on my bar clothes," I said truthfully. Sam looked at me funny, then opened the bag opposite of me and tossed me a plaid button up.

"It'll be big, but it's all we've got left," Sam laughed. I snatched it before it hit the ground, nodding my thanks, my mouth full with the jeans I was trying to keep from brushing the ground.

With a little effort, I made it back to the bathroom and dressed quickly, settling on a semi-country look, tying Sam's shirt in the front so it wasn't as annoyingly long. Seeing how Sam was a million and one sizes bigger than me. I pulled my long hair into a messy ponytail, before twisting it into a bun, my normal hunt-ready style.

I looked around for my sneakers, but only found one. Considering going out barefoot, I vaguely remembered my sneakers being beside the bed the day before. Padding into the room, I snatched my shoe off the floor and slipped it on, happy to finally be dressed in more normal clothing. That was when I noticed it, a small piece of paper slipped skillfully between the mattress and box spring of the bed Caden was abducted from. A hint we both used every time we spent time in a motel and one or the other went out for food or to make a private phone call. I reached for the paper and fingered my brother's careful handwriting.

Harley,

I'm sure by the time you find this, you'll have a lead. You were always the best at catching wind when weird things happen. This is different. This isn't what you think. This isn't the normal demon slaying, ass kicking job we've worked time and time again. This is a lot stronger. When you find me, I won't be human. Shit, I'm not even sure I'm human right now. They key is the box, Harley, the letters on them, they don't stand for dad's name, they're a code. A chant to open it. But you can't open it until you find the shack in the woods. I244. I'll be there. But you'll have to follow your head, not your heart. Because if I'm not human, don't spare me. Don't try to save me. Just kill me and get it over with. Before it kills you. It's not the demon of sickness mom wrote about. I know that for a fact. It's something a lot scarier. A lot deadlier. Trust me.

CD.

Reading the note one more time, I realized that whatever took Cade, showed itself before it managed to get him out. The time on the top of the letter read 0100. He wrote it at one in the morning. It didn't make any sense, we were still awake at that time. He didn't cry out, he didn't make a sound. I was beginning to wonder what could have been going through that child's head when it happened. I knew one thing for sure though, I would do everything in my power to save him, even if it meant dying myself. Because that child was the only thing that I had left to fight for. It was my job to protect him, to keep him safe, especially since no one else would. I'd come close to dying for him before, and I wasn't about to stop now.

I read the note one final time, letting the words embed themselves into my mind. The chant would be next to impossible to find, but I knew from experience that chants had a habit of just coming to mind when they were needed most. Just like our first exorcism. Neither of us knew heads or tails about exorcisms at the time, but when we needed the words, they just flowed naturally. So that would mean I'd have to open the box, which was in the cards all along. But the next problem became clear. _This isn't what you think...It's not the demon of sickness mom wrote about. _That meant all of our research was for nothing. We had no idea how to kill this thing, and no idea what it was. But pieces fell together the more I thought about it. Caden and I have gone into things with less information than what we had now before and it never stopped us from getting the job done, even if we just barely got out alive.

With that thought in mind, I padded into the kitchen, the note tightly wrapped in my hands, a look of determination and unwavering will glued to my face.

"Here's the plan," I said, setting the note on the table. "Sam, you're going to memorize every exorcism you know," I start.

"Hey," he grumbled.

"You have to. Odds are, we aren't going to have time to pull out the damn book," I grunted. "Dean, you're going to have to provide cover. I'm not sure what we're walking into, but I sure as hell plan to be prepared. No matter what happens, I'm getting Caden out alive, if it's the last thing I do."

"Sir, yes sir," Dean muttered, annoyed by my sudden control.

"I'm going to have to open the box, and pray to whoever the hell's listening that the right words come to me," I add. "That, and I have to make sure, completely sure, that what we're dragging out is my brother, not some black eyed freak."

"So basically we're going on a rescue mission?" Sam asked. I looked over at Bobby, who was studying my face with a blank expression.

"Yes."

* * *

We went over everything we knew, any lore we thought could come in handy while Dean was driving the Impala. I tried to convince him to take my car, because it was practically silent, which would have made it a hell of a lot easier, but Dean, being Dean, refused. We decided to carrying as many different weapons as we could. Silver, iron, salt, you name it, we were going to be carrying it. I had the box in my backpack, which would be easier to access than any of my other bags. Along with it, I had my favorite knife strapped to my calf, a small handgun in my waistband and a flask of holy water in my pocket, as well as various objects that were said to provide protection. My mother was big on carrying charms and whatnot, even though Caden and I have never really found anything useful about them before.

Nearly halfway there, I begged Dean to pull over, a sick, dizzy feeling washing over me. I knew better than anyone, that if I got sick in the Impala, Dean would be the last person I'd want to work with the rest of the night. When he pulled over, I slammed open the door and wheeled away from the car, falling to my knees in a few inches of thick foliage. After several minutes of emptying the contents of my stomach, I pulled myself to my feet, only to let myself fall again, this time on the pavement next to the car. I stayed there, even when Dean went on to complain about wasting time.

I was too busy focusing on the scene that was playing out in my mind.

"_She's late," a voice growled, my brother tied to a chair, his face a bloody mess, his eyes as black as night._

"_She'll be here," he growled, his voice harsh but sure._

"_If she doesn't show..." the other voice cut in._

"_She will. She loves her brother too much not too," _

_A sign. A rusted sign reading __**Danger**__._

"Earth to Harley, come in Harley," Dean called from the other side of the car. Sam was kneeling next to me, shaking me lightly.

"I'm here, hang on," I muttered, letting the scene embed itself in my mind. I'd never witnessed anything like that before, but man, it felt like I had just been mind fucked.

"I had a Sam moment," I muttered, pulling myself up. My knees were practically slamming together in effort to keep myself up right. Sam's hands were never far, ready to keep me from slamming face first into the Impala. I climbed in the back, this time willing to let Sam have the front seat, mainly because I need to look something up.

After Dean pulled away from the curb, I pulled out Sam's laptop and prayed I could get on wifi. Little to my surprise, I wasn't. So I laid it aside and took out my mom's journal instead. Using my phone as a flashlight – thankful I got didn't break the one with the big screen – I looked over some of the older pictures in the book, trying to find one that matched what I had seen. To my surprise, I found something similar. Sure enough, it had a number printed neatly on the back. I knew from experience that those digits weren't co-ordinates, but steps.

"I know where we have to go," I said, looking up. Bad idea. The pitch blackness momentarily gave me a sense of panic. After my heart settled, I showed the picture to Sam, who managed to turn his tall body to face me.

"How?" he asked, looking at the numbers in confusion.

"They're steps," I explained. "My mom used to use it for places stuck in the middle of no where," I added. "Dean, you're going to want to turn onto the dirt road about a mile from Tulsa," I explained. "But keep the headlights off when you do. It's an abandoned road, and it's posted," I added. "No point in hurting the car, ya know?"

"Okay," Dean said simply. I gave him a look, but let it go.

The rest of the ride was spent working out the finer details to our little rescue mission. The only thing that had me on edge was leaving myself only guarded by Dean's surefire aim. Though I knew Dean could cover anyone better than anyone I knew – and that's saying a lot- I didn't like the danger that was being put on his back. Sam was as great in a fight as he was at exorcising this or that, but Dean couldn't memorize Latin to save his life. That was what made the plan painfully clear.

If only we saw it coming...

* * *

_A/N;; This chapter was painfully difficult to write, hence the late update. I kept changing my mind. O.o Anyway, here it is! Hope you all enjoy! _


	7. Chapter 6 - Death Wish

Dean had a difficult time maneuvering along the dark, twisted path once we veered off the interstate and entered the pitch blackness of the woods. Every time the tires hit a bump, root, or other unseen object, it took all I had not to jump. As good as a driver Dean is, even he couldn't predict the twists and turns of the path, none of us could. I soon saw why the road had been closed years ago. We ended up ditching the Impala in what seemed to be the ideal place, where the moonlight shined enough for the rims to give off a low glow.

"So how do you plan to find the shack?" Dean asked, irritation in his voice. I knew he was tired from driving straight through, and that bothered me, but I had to let it go.

"Flashlights," I said with a shrug.

"But there's so many places it could be," Dean complained.

"Yeah, well, if I follow the picture, I'll find it," I said, slinging the backpack over my shoulder, my fingers twitching where my prized black Desert Eagle MK I - .357 Magnum, which was in easy access at all times, loading with rock-salt filled shells. Though one of my favorites, it wasn't my first choice in a fight. I'd much rather use one of my various knives, but they weren't always as effective.

I flicked on a flashlight and tossed another to Sam, who was to my right. Dean stayed alert at my left, his face masking any and all emotion. We made our way north, or at least, what looked and felt like north. Carefully avoiding roots and rocks, we managed to make it into the clearing without falling on our faces. Which was harder than in looked when you're head feels like it's going to explode. The closer we got, the more I began to question my decision on having both brothers with me. Sam's face showed signs of pain, and Dean's was paler than it was moments before, but they were strong, and had literally been to hell and back for each other, so they'd keep it together.

I stopped in the middle of the clearing and pulled out the photo. With shaking hands, I shined the light to it, reading the numbers one final time. I turned counterclockwise until I saw the ancient, downed oak.

It was a long, tedious trek. Every time we got turned around or I miscounted a step, we'd have to go back to the middle of the lot and start over. After about three hours, we finally found what we were looking for, an ancient, abandoned shack, two stories high with what looked like a full access basement. To my own surprise, there were angel banishing sigils on the walls. Whoever was held up there knew about not only the existence of angels ,but probably our alliance with Castiel.

"Shit," I muttered. There went the thought of calling Cas if things went south. "Okay. Stick together," I said, taking charge of the situation. If anyone died tonight, it'd be on my head and my head alone.

We circled the shack, looking for any signs that might tip us off. Of course, there were none, other than the sigils and the fact that I was absolutely positive that this was the place.

"So let me get this straight, we're going to go in, try to exorcise your brother and then what?" Dean asked, an expression of pain on his face.

"Get out alive," I said simply. My stomach was doing flips and I felt ready to collapse, but my will to save my brother was more overpowering than any demonic _thing. _

We found the door to the basement easily. It wasn't hidden or anything, but it was padlocked with a thick lock that looked near impossible to pick. Covering Sam, Dean and I scanned the trees for any trouble while Sam picked the lock with sure fingers. Leave it to Sam.

Once we heard the lock click open, we were more than ready to press forward.

"Wait," I said suddenly, a thought hitting me.

"What?" Sam groaned. He, just like the rest of us, were overly eager for the night to be over already.

"I just thought of something," I said, shaking my head. "We're going in, with good faith in this box, that I've never actually opened before, that I don't even really know how to open."

"It was your plan," Sam pointed out.

"Right, but we never came up with a plan S.O.S," I retorted.

"You think we'll need one?" Dean asked, giving me a look.

"Well, yeah," I said with a shrug. I was feeling like absolute shit, but it wasn't going to stop me from pushing forward. "If we get in there, and things go south..."

"What's the plan?" Sam asked. I saw his hands twitch, his eyes flashing with an emotion I didn't catch.

"Give me Ruby's knife," I started, silencing them before they could cut me off. "I'm going to finish this, one way or another, but I'm not about to lose anyone today. I'm not going to let either of you get yourselves k-," I started, but Sam doubling over in pain stopped me. I reached for him at the same time Dean did, resulting in an awkward exchange of curses. His head in his hands, Sam started saying something I didn't understand. I could speak and read Latin clear as day, but translating on the spot was my not specialty. That was Bobby or Sam. Instead, I snatched the phone from my pocket and turned it on to record, holding it close to Sam's mouth, while Dean held him upright. He kept repeating the same lines, over and over, until his eyes went blank, his knees buckling. He fell heavily, his weight pushing me over. Cursing, I scrambled to my feet before kneeling next to him.

"C'mon Sam, we need you here, with us," I coaxed him back to reality. His eyes opened and he let out a groan, before righting himself.

"Well that sure as hell wasn't normal," Dean grumbled.

"I know," I muttered, listening to the recording again, trying to figure out what it could mean. I leaned against the side of the shack, suddenly unsure about my plan. I was not only risking my own life this time, or even just the lives of my baby brother and myself, but the lives of the two men who have saved me time and time again. The two guys who have been there through most of my life, from my first death, to my first kill, my first real taste of hell. Was I ready to sacrifice that much, for a plan I wasn't even sure about?

"Listen..." I started, this time feeling the tears welling in my eyes. "If anything, and I mean anything, goes off the plan, get out. Don't think, just go," I said softly. Dean handed me Ruby's knife without question, either trusting my motives, or just willing to do anything that would make the case easier. I slid it into my pocket, my fingers lingering on the handle. Should I have to use the knife, I just might shed blood of my own.

We took a few more moments to etch out the last of the details, before quietly opening the door. I was going down first, mainly because in comparison to either of the guys, I was the smallest and easiest to hide. We had to play our cards right, or risk getting caught before we had a chance to see what we were up against.

Staying close to the wall, I slowly made my way forward, staying as quiet as humanly possible. The waves of nausea came closer and closer together, leaving my breathless and weak, swallowing bile after bile, my throat on fire. I had to stop in the shadows at one point, just to stop my body from shaking with chills. Whatever we were facing, it radiated with a sickening scent, feel, and anything else.

I stopped at the corner, light cascading from beyond it. I took the chance to kneel down, both because I was growing weaker by the moment, and because I had to text Sam.

_They're in the back, be quiet, but come on, _I sent the text and prayed it went through. Dizzily, I leaned against the wall and listened, both for the sounds of the guys approaching, and to see if I could hear anything from beyond. To my surprise, I could.

"How far do you think they'll make it before they keel over just like you did?" someone taunted. I heard a muffled cry, my heart leaping into my throat when I realized it was Cade. "What's that? You don't think she'll come? Oh, but she will, she will. It's her way," it continued. "And when she does, you won't be human enough to remember her," it finished with a bitter, spine-tingling cackle.

"Why must you always toy with your food?" a familiar voice scolded. The voice sounded like that of my mother.

"M-" I went to say, but a strong hand clamped over my mouth, an arm locking around my waist, keeping me where I was, silent.

"Because, they're so much sweeter when they're terrified," the other voice giggled. The thing actually freaking giggled.

"True," the thing inside my mother agreed. I heard what sounded like someone taking a deep breath, smelling something. "They're close," it added with a laugh of delight.

"Shall we?" the other thing asked.

"No, no, let them come in their own time. The longer they wait, the weaker they'll become," it replied with pure delight.

I glanced over at Dean, who stood a few feet back, ready to be the one covering Sam and I. His face was so pale that the glow from my flashlight made him glow. I felt concern welling in my chest, that undying, overly concerned feeling that could stop me dead in my tracks.

Here's something you should know. I don't feel strongly about anyone other than my brother. I won't think twice about throwing someone in front of me in it means getting my brother out alive. It's a bad trait to have, but it's just me. I have watched almost everyone I've ever cared about die in front of my very eyes, and I stopped caring long ago. But in that moment, I felt an unwavering yearning to protect Sam and Dean both, as if they were my own flesh and blood. I knew from experience, that such emotions would cloud any judgment and would make it nearly impossible to focus. I took a deep, much needed breath and held it, letting it ease the tension from my bones and settle the gurgling on my stomach.

I made the first move. I wasn't supposed to be the one stepping out first, that was supposed to be Dean, but since I was feeling way too protective of the man, I walked out, without a weapon drawn, with only the box in my hands.

"Oh, you came," the thing inside my mother cooed. "Good to finally see you, Harley, dear."

"Shove it," I growled. Sam was right behind me, towering over my short frame, Latin words already pouring out of his mouth, his eyes locked on my mother. With a quick flick of her wrist, he was pinned against the wall, struggling to spit the words out.

"Now, now, play fair," she cooed, her eyes locking on me. Dean was circling the boxes, hidden by the shadows. The other man in the room was starting towards me, his eyes as orange as fire. I knew right then, that we weren't up against your typical demons. At least not that thing anyway.

I held the box away from me, the clear strings holding it firmly to my hands. It'd take a lot to rip it away from me. I concentrated, letting all sounds, all taunts, all cries for help be masked by the task of opening the box, saying the right words, saving the people I cared about.

But the words couldn't come fast enough. My concentration was broken when I heard the bloodcurdling cry of pain ahead of me. I smelled the blood long before I saw it. I saw his body twist from pain, his eyes widen, then stair blankly. A look that would haunt me the rest of my life. I heard the chair fall over, saw his hair flip as he head fell to the side, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

And I howled. Like a wounded animal, I howled.


	8. Chapter 7 - Never Gonna Let You Go

"Harley," Sam shouted over the sounds that echoed off the walls. I looked at him and saw the look on his face. It was an expression I would never forget. I closed my eyes and focused on the task at hand; opening the box.

Once more, I shut out the world. I fell to my knees, and felt glass cut into the soft flesh, but ignored it, with my hands pressed tightly against the box, I let the words flow from my lips, unsure of if they were right or not.

To my right, I heard gun shots go off, and immediately looked in that direction, only to see Dean struggling with two monsters at once. Where they were coming from, I didn't know. I had an unnatural urge to throw the box aside and help him, but we didn't stand a chance no matter what I did.

Hopeless, sick and scared, I felt my heart begin to race, faster than ever before, my words coming in painful, broken gasps.

"Ante noctem est super,

Ante facinus patratur,

Exaudi vocem meam pro misericordia,

Enim inpotens filium.

Patefacio propositum animi

Fractaque non solus,

Cum hoc arca archa,

Tibi dabo sperare,

Sacrificium ut tam carus.

Aperi!

Aperi!

Expelle eos ad inferni!

Aperi!

Aperi!

Expelle eos ad inferni!" The last phrase came out with so much force, so much pure hatred, my words ringing clear, my voice booming over the sounds of the scuffle to my left.

The box opened and tore from my hands, the strings that held it there, leaving tiny, bloody cuts. The light was blinding, the screams impossibly loud. I felt myself get throw across the room, hitting the wall with so much force, I was sure I was going to die. I fell to the floor and felt the air leave my lungs, the pain so unbearable, that I actually welcomed the darkness when it came.

* * *

Groaning, I sat up and rubbed the back of my head, overly aware of the smell of blood that filled the room. I realized in a seconds time, that it wasn't my own blood I smelled.

Let's get something straight. For some stupid reason people believe it's impossible to smell blood. That humans don't have a heightened enough sense to smell it. Well here's the real kicker. We can smell blood, maybe not as easily as some, but we can. It smells like rust. Really awful, really strong rust. It leaves you dizzy. It's sickening.

I tried to stand but realized it was hopeless. Instead, I tried to see Dean or Sam, or my mother, or even Caden from where I was. I saw Sam across the room nursing what looked like a broken leg. I was about to crawl towards him when I heard a weak, barely audible groan. I pulled myself towards the sound and cursed.

Dean laid motionlessly in a pool of his own blood, a gaping hole in his stomach. His face was ashen, his lips turning blue.

I don't know where I found the strength, but somehow, I was on my feet and half running, half limping towards him. I collapsed at his side, my hands ripping the fabric of his shirt to get a better view of the wound. It was deep. Deep enough to be deadly. I ripped off the shirt I was wearing, overly grateful that Sam was a giant compared to me, and bunched it up. Even though it was covered in blood and dirt, it was better than nothing. We'd worry about infection as soon as the bleeding stopped. I pressed firmly, already assured that it was a wound from a knife, not a bullet. Dean groaned again, but didn't move.

"Sam?" I called, my voice shaking.

"Huh?" he asked. He was still working on his leg. Either trying to fix it, or trying to access it, either way we had bigger issues to deal with.

"We need to get Dean out of here. Now," I said with a little force.

"Dude, I can't stand," Sam muttered. I looked over in his general direction and cursed.

"Your phone still intact?" I asked. My phone had shattered when I hit the wall.

"No," Sam said. "How bad is he?"

"Sam, he's bad. Really, really bad," I said, feeling tears falling from my eyes. I looked over at Caden's lifeless body and cursed again. I moved Dean's limp hand so it was holding the shirt in place, and limped over to my brother's side. My mother and the other monsters were no where in sight. I felt for a pulse, but knew I wouldn't find on. I took his hand in mine and let hot tears fall onto it, an angry curse falling from my lips.

"I'm so so sorry, Cadey. I'm so sorry," I whispered. I pulled his body into my arms and gave him a tight hug, begging for his forgiveness. After a few minutes, I laid him on his back and cut his shirt loose. I wrapped strips of it around my wrists to stop the bleeding the strings had caused, before pulling myself up again, this time to check on Sam.

"How bad does it hurt?" I asked once I was next to him, my fingers gingerly feeling his leg, trying to find any breaks. Luckily, it didn't seem broken, just badly cut up.

"Not too bad," Sam lied. I saw the way he flinched every time my fingers hit a cut or bruise.

"We gotta get you on your feet," I stated. He gave me a hopeless look, making him look so much younger than he really was. I gave him a sad smile and thought about how we were going to get him up, without him falling back down. "Okay, lean on me," I finally decided. I braced myself against the wall and used both arms to help lift him to his feet. He towered over me, his face filling with pain the second weight was on his leg.

"Okay, okay," I said softly. I was panting from the effort of getting him upright, and still didn't know how much good it was going to do us.

"Just go get help," Sam finally decided. His legs were shaking worse than my own, his face pale from effort. All I was thinking, was how much time we were wasting. Precious, significant time.

"I can't," I said truthfully. There was no way in hell I was leaving them.

"You have to," Sam said. He slid down the wall, his hands wrapping around the deepest cut on his leg.

"I can't," I said as I walked away from him, Dean now my main priority. He still laid motionless, and if it had not been for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought he was dead. His skin was cold to the touch, his lips a darker blue now, the shirt, drenched with blood.

"Dean, you don't get to die today, you don't get to die," I cried. My hands pressed against the wound, blood quickly covering my hands. Then it hit me.

"There's a phone in the car," I said, more to myself than anyone else.

"Go get it," Sam suggested. I glanced in his direction, gauging the best way to do this.

"I can't just leave Dean like this. He's lost way too much blood," I said slowly. "Can you pull yourself over here?" I added. I turned carefully, my hands still firmly pressed on the shirt. The time I wasted fussing over Sam and Caden proved to be the wrong choice. I was already kicking myself as it was, let's not add to it.

"Yeah," Sam said. I heard the sound of fabric scrapping concrete and nodded to myself. I slowly removed the shirt from Dean's stomach and examined the wound again. The bleeding had slowed, but hadn't stopped. I was afraid an artery was hit, or worse, there was more damage than what met the eye. I thought for a moment, and remembered something my mother had said when I was a child. It was right after Hunter had been hit by a car on one of her hunting trips. His leg had been cut badly, too badly and too mangled to be stitched, but the bleeding was more than we could handle. Miles away from a vet, and no way of stitching the wound, she took out her lighter and one of her old, metal knives, and let the blade heat up before pressing it to Hunter's wound. The dog howled like a wild beast, but afterwards, the bleeding had stopped, and when we cut away the dead flesh days later, it didn't have any problem healing like normal.

Now, I knew the basics for human and dog – believe it or not – first aid, but I knew nothing about how burning a half dead man's stomach would help any. I was feeling hopeless to say the least, knowing all too well that even if Sam could apply enough pressure in the condition he's in himself, between the time it'd take me to not only find the car, but pick the lock, find the phone, plus describe the location to the dispatcher, then waiting around for an ambulance to find the shack AND locate us in the basement, jeez. In that time, it could be far, far, FAR too late. I tried to remember if there was a first aid kit in the bag I had left in the car. Had we taken the Comet over the Impala, we'd have had a fully stocked, fully useable first aid kit (rule number 10 in my mom's journal. Prepare for the worst. Always have emergency items on hand. NO MATTER WHAT.) Naturally, that rule skipped my mind when we were loading into the Impala with nothing but a whim to go on.

"What do you need me to do?" Sam asked when he finally reached me.

"I need you to put enough pressure on his stomach to slow the bleeding, but not enough to do any more damage," I said carefully. Sam looked at me with wide, fearful eyes.

"I'm not going to let him die," I promised. I knelt down next to the brothers who had saved me so many times before, who, if I didn't know them well enough, would have been saints in my eyes. I brushed Sam's hair out of his face and forced him to look at me. "I lost my brother and my mother today. I'm not letting anyone else die," I said with enough force to convince him. He did as I said, and once I was sure there was nothing else I could do, I stood. Still not sure if I wanted to leave them, logic won, and I started, as quickly as I could, half running, half limping, outside.

Once outside, I was met with darkness. Pitch blackness. I couldn't see an inch in front of my nose. Panic rose in my chest. I hadn't thought. I hadn't imagined how dark it would be, out in the middle of no where, off of I244.

I nearly fell when I felt a cold nose brush my hand. I let my hand drift along the furry, warm body. I could tell it was a canine, but dog or wolf, I didn't know. It let out a gentle whine and nudged my hand again, this time, urging me to rest my hand on his head. I let my hands slide down it's neck, realizing it must have been a dog, because it had a collar. And it was solid, so I didn't even consider a Hellhound gone soft. (It'd happened once to my mother. But that's a story for another day.) I let my hand lock around the collar, my heart pounding in my chest. I was short, only 5 feet tall, but the dog was bigger than any I'd been around before. It came up to the middle of my body, and that was on all fours. I was scared, but not enough to not let the dog lead me wherever it was leading me. Anything was better than the pitch blackness.

In under a half hour, and without getting turned around once, we reached the Impala. I never in my entire life felt so happy to see the damn car. I slammed into it face first, sure I left a dent in it's side, but I didn't care. I started picking the lock, again irritated that they keys were no where to be found in the basement. Once the door popped and hot wired the car, more because I needed to hear it's familiar purr than anything else. I sat there for a second, trying to catch my breath while I went through the glove department, searching for one of the boys million and a half phones. To my luck, I found one, but not to my surprise, there was no service. Cursing, I shoved it in my jeans pocket, and slammed the door, letting it slam loud enough to give me a weird comfort.

I opened the trunk next and shifted through my bag. I was surprised to see my fully stocked first aid kit in it, I hadn't even been sure I packed it. I slung the bag over my shoulder, before picking up one of the hand guns Dean had buried under a bag of dirty laundry. I smiled to myself, and slid the gun into my waistband. Better to be prepared.

In the headlights of the car, I saw the dog standing guard. Her fur was a dusty gray color, thick fur covering from head to tail. She looked almost like a wolf, her eyes dark against the bright lights. I rummaged through the trunk a little more, remembering that my old phone's GPS had been set up so it would be traceable even if I was out of range. I could only hope that Bobby would worry and look into it.

After all was said and done, I locked the car again and grabbed hold of the dog's collar. It was still dark, only the faintest of light was glowing over the horizon. The dog's pace quickened as we neared the shack. She let out a low bark and broke away from my grip, running full speed ahead. I could see the flashing light of someone flicking a flashlight on and off through the still open hatch. I picked up my pace, though running was impossible with the heavy bag weighing me down.

I nearly fell on my face when I flew down the stairs. The dog was barking, not too far from where I stood. I went over to her, and saw Sam, sitting against the wall, his face streaked with tears, the light flickering on and off in his hands.

"Sam?" I asked softly. I went over and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up. The look on his face told me all I needed to know. I pushed past him, leaving the dog with him, as I went over to where Dean laid. His face was paler than it was when I left, his lips a deeper shade of blue. I didn't stop. I didn't think.

I set the bag down and pulled out everything I would need, from alcohol to an IV rig Caden had scored a few years back. I didn't stop to check his pulse. I refused to even imagine the worst. Instead, with ginger, sure hands, I went to work, cleaning, stitching and bandaging the gaping wound.

It didn't take long, but every move felt like it was taking an enormous effort. Once he was patched up, I felt for a pulse. It was weak, but there. His breathing was weak and barely there, but he was alive, I wasn't giving up. At some point, Sam had made his way back over to us, the dog at his side, protective as ever.

"I'm going to need your help for this," I said carefully as I rubbed down my arm and did the same to Dean. "I'm O-," I said simply. I tied one of the various rigs around Dean's arm, careful to use the same caution my mother had shown me years ago. I'd only ever done a direct transfusion once, and that was when Caden was shot in the chest when he was 10. Our mother, who was the wrong blood type, said it was what saved his life.

"What do you need me to do?" Sam asked, his voice soft, emotionless.

"After I get the needle into Dean's arm, you're going to have to attach the other side to my vein. Please don't miss it either," I said. I quickly stuck the one side of the needle into Dean's arm, and waited as Sam did the same to me. He missed the first few tries, but eventually got it in. I set the timer on my phone. I knew any longer than 15 minutes would kill me, but any less wouldn't be enough to save Dean. I undid both rigs and leaned back, closing my eyes as I felt my blood slowly make it's way into Dean's veins.

It was an awkward feeling, but it made me feel like I was on cloud nine in the same breath. Maybe that's why things worked out the way they did.

* * *

_A/n;; I'm not a doctor, and obviously, what takes place in this chapter is primitive and very, very unlikely. But it came to mind and I decided to go with it. ;)_

_Happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers! Hope everyone has a happy holiday! _


	9. Chapter 8 - Saving Grace

15 minutes was longer than my body would allow. Halfway in, Sam was slamming my face trying to keep me awake. The dog, who I was now nicknaming 'Sadie' was barking loudly, causing me to jerk awake every time my eyes shut.

"15 minutes, you're done," Sam said after what felt like a lifetime. I held still while he slid the needle out of my arm and waited quietly as he pulled a bandage over the tiny poke. I lifted my arm above my head and watched as he did the same with Dean, who in the very least, was looking less dead. I nudged him with my foot and smiled when I got a light groan. At least he was coming around.

I leaned against the cool wall, welcoming the silence. My head was pounding, I was tired, and even more, I was feeling less and less confident that someone would find us. I didn't want to think of what would happen if help didn't come.

"Stay awake," Sam muttered as he nudged me with his foot for what seemed to be the millionth time. I groaned and forced my eyes open, letting my weight shift, letting my body sink further to the floor.

"How's Dean?" I asked. My throat was raw, my voice barely coming out as anything more than a muffled squeak.

"Still out," he replied, his own voice a telltale sign of how exhausted he really was. I nodded slightly, letting my head fall on to the dog's shoulder. I noticed then that her fur was actually curly, not straight like I assumed in the dark. That made me open my eyes again, this time to figure out what she was. She was bigger than your average dog, her build strong and muscular. But her dark, curly pelt made me realize she had to have normal dog in her. I ran my hands through her coat and realized that what at first looked like white, was actually a faint gold color.

"You're the biggest labradoodle I've ever seen," I muttered. She whined and nudged me with her nose. I noticed how her face looked wolf like. Her one eye darker than the other. "Maybe labradoodle-wolf," I guessed.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, looking at me funny.

"The dog. She's too big to be a normal lab-poodle mix," I explained. "But her fur's curly and thick, and she's a golden gray color," I added, running my hand through her fur.

"You're worried about her friggin' breed?" Sam nearly growled.

"No, not really," I sighed. I let my weight shift, now almost leaning entirely on the dog. She shifted her own weight, making more like a pillow for me. I smiled into her warm fur, grateful for the soft, warm feeling it brought. I realized then just how cold I was. "Slide me your coat," I suggested.

Sam did. I slid it on, realizing that sitting in a basement with just my bra wasn't my brightest plan, but the shirt had been soaked to the point of no return with Dean's blood. I wrapped the oversized jacket around me, letting it's warmth bring on the sleep I so desperately needed.

"Hey, stay awake," Sam demanded. I tried to say something, but it just came out a tired groan. The dog licked my hand softly, her breathing lulling me to sleep.

"_Dad! DAD!" I screamed as I ran down the corridor, my hands covered with blood, monster blood. The...the thing had come out of no where. It growled and tried to bite me with it's sharp teeth. I grabbed the silver cross Aunt Sherri had given my mom, that hung by the window and stabbed it in the heart. I don't know how, but it died. "Mom!"_

"_Harley, honey, Harley!" My dad screamed, running after me. He grabbed me with strong arms and wrapped me in his arms, a hug that chased away all the evil._

"_Daddy, it was horrible, it came right at me! The...the...I don't even know what it was!" I sobbed._

"_I know honey, I know," he said softly, hugging me so tight, so tight I felt nothing could touch me. "It's over now, honey, it's all over."_

"_What do you mean she killed a werewolf? What the hell, Ryan! You can't let them out of your sight! Harley's only 5 years old for God's sake! What do you think she's going to think?" I heard my mother scream, her voice too loud, too mad._

"_Nikole, I'm so sorry! Caden was crying, I-I didn't mean to let Hars out of my sight," my father pleaded. _

"_Like Hell Ryan! Like Hell! I leave them with you one night, one night and this is what happens? This is what happens to our daughter? God damnit!" she retorted._

_The smell of sulfur, the taste of iron – blood. The eyes. The bright red, demanding eyes. And the claws. Claws like a wildcats, only longer, sharper, ready to rip my heart from my chest. _

"_We're going to find you Harley. We're going to find you and we're going to turn you into the monster you were born to be." it snarled, it's sharp fangs glistening in the moonlight. _

"Harley! Harley!" Sam's voice rang loudly against the walls of the basement. I blindly reached for his arms and clung to him for dear life, sobs and screams still wracking havoc over me. It took a whole ten minutes to fully break from the vivid, all too real nightmare. The dog was standing close by, her ears pinned to her skull, her tail low, her lips curled over her teeth, a silent growl shaking her body. I took several deep breaths, still clinging to Sam's chest, unable to stop my body from shaking. Dean was still out cold beside us, unaware of the screams that still echoed off the walls.

"You good?" Sam finally asked, pushing me away slightly. I had clawed into his arms, small red cuts covering them both.

"Yeah, yeah I think so," I said, still shaking violently, my teeth chattering as I spoke.

"What was that all about?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I don't even know," I muttered. I stood up, aware of the dizziness that clouded my vision, but welcoming it for a change. I let my breathing return to normal, before making up my mind.

"We're getting the hell out of here," I said as I walked over to where Caden laid motionlessly on the floor. I grabbed his arms and pulled him up next to Dean, letting his head hit the ground with a thud.

"Sorry, Cadey," I muttered as I wandered into the other side of the basement, retrieving two pieces of plywood and a long piece of rope.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as I carved two holes in each board.

"Well with your leg, you can't carry either of 'em, and I'm too small to even think about it," I said as I pulled the rope through the boards, making two sled like things. "The dog's big enough to drag Dean. He'll hate us for it when he wakes up, but it's time to get out of here," I said, my voice still trembling. I made a makeshift harness for the dog, and tied the other rope to it, making like a sled-dog rig out of the board. With Sam's help, we got Dean on the board. I used surgical tape to secure him, hoping he wouldn't slide off the board. I pulled Caden onto the other, repeating the process. "We're both gonna have to drag Cade," I added. I tied one side of the rope around me in a crisscross fashion, then told Sam to grab the other end. It'd be a slow go, but better than nothing.

What I hadn't considered, were the stairs. Once we reached them, I considered the options. We could try and slide the rigs up them, but it'd be difficult. Or we could try and carry them up, but with Sam's bad leg and me being half out of it, it seemed to be an impossible option. The last option was find a way to make a ramp, but I had used the only plywood I could find to make the rigs.

"What's the plan?" Sam finally asked. He was leaning against the wall, trying to hide the pain, but I could see it in his eyes. Years of working beside him made it hard for him to hide it from me anymore. Dean had it easier. He was Mr. Macho man.

I finally made up my mind and looked at the dog. She wagged her tail, waiting for the command.

"Alright, Sadie," I said suddenly. She wagged her tail harder, her all rear end wiggling. It'd have been adorable if I wasn't so exhausted. "We're going to have to drag 'em up," I said. "Wait here," I told Sam.

Sadie pulled Dean over to the steps, aligning him so the board was completely straight. That was when I realized just how smart the dog was. Unnaturally smart. Disregarding the thought, I grabbed hold of the edges of the board and prayed I wouldn't end up dropping my end of the board. The going was slow, but eventually, Sadie and I got Dean to the top of the stairs without dropping the board. Sadie laid down, panting hard, her sides rising and falling quickly as I untied the board from the makeshift harness. One up, one to go. Two if you count Sam, but we wouldn't be dragging him up what felt like a million too many stairs. I took a moment to catch my breath and check Dean's vitals. He was stable. Actually, he was better than stable. His breathing was strong, his pulse equally so. His color had returned, and I had a feeling it was all a matter of time.

Debating on whether or not to bring Sadie back down with me was another story. I didn't like the thought of leaving Dean by himself, no matter how little the time may be. In the end, I decided to bring the dog down to help me get Cade. That was an easier trek, for the dog made it alone. I wasn't afraid to let the body get knocked around, I just refused to leave him by himself, to rot away in the basement that ultimately ended up being his tomb. While the dog pulled Cade up the stairs, her breathing labored, rough breaths echoing off the walls, I let Sam lean on me, using me as a crutch to follow close behind. It was even slower the second time. I was tired, my knees shaking from effort, my heart pounding in my ears. I felt as if my legs would buckle at any moment. Thinking back, I sort of wish they had.

Eventually, we made it outside, breathless and tired. I once more untied the rig from Sadie's harness, letting the board slam to the ground, Cade's body bouncing like a bag of rice. I regretted it, but there was little harm to be done. Shaking, I led the dog over to Sam.

"Stay," I told her in a stern voice. The sun was up now, and finding the car would be easy. I hoped to pull right up next to the awkward group, to save the effort of dragging them the four miles it was to the car.

Much to my surprise, finding the Impala proved to be difficult. I got turned around countless times, and kept having to backtrack. When I did finally relocate the shack, I had wasted a good portion of the morning. Nearly asleep at the wheel, I turned the car off, listening as the engine's purr fell silent. I understood then, one reason Dean was so keen to keep such a loud car. Aside from the obvious reasons. I knew as well as anyone, that the Impala once belonged to John. It was almost as if the car was as much a part of their broken family as they were.

That thought made me remember the old farm house my brother and I had been born in. A beautiful, two story Victorian furnished farm house, out on a farm in Angola, New York. We lived there up until the demon killed our father. Or monster. To this day, I don't know what took him from me. All I know is it left me broken, beaten, begging for revenge.

We burned the house to the ground after that. Against John's advice, and to my grandparent's surprise, my mother torched the house and vowed to never step foot on the property again. Years of memories were lost that year. Not only because our father had been murdered, but because the house that brought the two families together, had been the same to tear them apart. And worst, my mother never forgave me. Never forgave me for being the cause of my father's death.

"_You're the devil's spawn, you hear me child? The devil's spawn!" she screamed late one night in 2000. I was just barely 11, but by then, I was taking care of Caden on a daily basis. My mother was always either out hunting, or drunk. That night, I happened to stumble upon her after one of her all night drinking binges. _

_She rose from her spot on the bed and came at me, a knife tightly gripped in her hands. I backed up slowly, my own hands moving for the knife I kept in my waistband. She came faster, the blade slicing into my arm before I could pull away. I screamed and crawled away, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. _

"_You're the reason your father is dead! You killed Daddy!" she screamed, her voice an awful combination of a sob and a scream. I scrambled to my feet and grabbed Caden from his bed. He was only 7 at the time, too young to understand that our mother was seriously messed up. I didn't know where I was taking him, or how I planned to get there, but that didn't stop me. I always kept a bag packed in my room, stocked with extra clothes and a roll of 100 dollar bills. With my brother's tiny hand gripped in my right, and my bag held tightly in my left, we made our way outside._

_I didn't look back. I just walked. Eventually I had to carry Caden, but his weight was nothing compared to the weight of the guilt my mother had throw in my direction for the last four years. _

_That was the first time I called upon a favor from the Winchesters. And that was the second time they came through when we needed them the most. _

"Harley!" Sam shouted, pounding on the window. I blinked and opened the door, tears in the corners of my eyes. "What the hell," he grumbled.

"Sorry," I sighed as I went to open the trunk. Once it was open, I pushed around the bags and made room to shove Caden in. Not the most creative place to put a dead body, but it would suffice. After securing him in place, I dealt with a trickier task. The Impala wasn't exactly my favorite car in that moment. I sighed and thought for a moment.

"I don't want to tear his stitches," I said aloud. Sam nodded, as if he knew exactly what I meant. I pushed the seats as far up as they would go, and thought about the easiest way to get Dean in, without banging him up too badly.

Eventually, we got him in, without scratching him or his precious car. Sadie jumped in next to him, her tail beating against the side of the seat. I laughed at the thought of a dog in Dean's car. He'd have a fit when he found out.

We made an effort to avoid busy roads. I explained that even the crappiest of motels would notice if the trunk suddenly started smelling like rotten meat, and what with the temperatures being so warm, it was unlikely that the body _wouldn't_ start to smell. So we ended up driving straight through, back to Bobby's.

And let me tell you something. When you get thrown around by a magical box, walk 8 miles to and from a car in the middle of the night, donate half your blood in the most idiotic of ways, drag three bodies up the stairs, then walk another four miles to retrieve the car, _then_, drive ten hours, you're ready to fall asleep and never wake up by the time it's over. Shoot, I'd been awake for four days at a time before, but never under such circumstances. It didn't help that the entire time, I was fighting back tears.

Half way to Bobby's I pulled over to the side of the road, nearly asleep at the wheel again, only this time, Sadie was barking every few seconds to keep me from crashing the Impala. Yeah. Smart dog. I nudged Sam and told him to drive the rest of the way. We traded spots, and with one hand on the dog's collar, the other supporting my arm, I fell asleep. It didn't even take a whole second. Sleep just came.

Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was my mind's way of letting me cope. In less than 24 hours, I watched my mother evaporate into thin air or be blown to bits, I didn't know which, my baby brother die, and one of the closest people to me, nearly followed the same pattern.

I think there might have been a reason the Winchester boys were with me that night. Maybe it was Sam's physic mumbo-jumbo that brought on the Latin that just so happened to open the box, or maybe it was luck. Since I didn't believe it luck, I let it all fall onto fate. Not that I believed in that either.

Whatever the reason, I was grateful.

Once again, the Winchesters pulled through for my seriously screwed up family.


	10. Chapter 9 - Highway To Hell

Dean didn't wake up for another four days. Those were the longest 96 hours of my life. Between Sam, Bobby and I, Dean was never alone for more than 5 minutes, and even then, Sadie was watching over him like a mother hen. Her oversized body only ever left his side to use the bathroom. She laid beside him on the bed, her tail wagging ever so slightly, a growl rising in her chest whenever Sam or Bobby checked his vitals.

It was around 6 when I heard Sadie yelp, like she just got shoved off the bed. I walked into the room, nursing a cup of coffee with a splash of Brandy, to see what caused the dog to spazz. I had only been out of the room for a few minutes, only enough time to pour the drink, but in that time, Dean had woken up, kicked the dog off the bed, and looked around, a mix of confusion and anger on his face.

"Hey sleeping beauty," I teased as I grabbed hold of Sadie's collar. She growled, trying to jump back on the bed, eager to take back her respected spot.

"Why was there a giant mutt next to me?" he asked.

"Because this giant mutt saved your butt," I laughed. I sat down on the bed next to him, still holding Sadie at bay. The big dog whined and finally gave up, wandering out of the room. "She found us after the box opened," I explained.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, sitting up. His hands flew to the bandage on his bare stomach, a ripple of pain crossing his face.

"A week? Give or take," I said. I let my fingers toy with his semi-messy hair, a sad smile playing on my lips. For a moment, one single moment, I felt like I was nursing Caden back to health, rather than Dean.

"What happened?" Dean asked, pushing my hand away.

"The box made everything explode. I can't explain it," I sighed. I stood up and nodded towards the armchair, where his clothes were laid out. "Get dressed. Sam's hopefully asleep, but Bobby'll fill you in," I said as I walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar as I left. I walked into the kitchen and sat down against the far wall, letting Sadie curl up next to me. The dog had become quite a huge asset the last few days, her presence enough to keep me from completely falling apart. Sam was always asking if I was okay, how I was holding up, the works, but it was Sadie who I cried to on a nightly basis, right before making myself at home on the blankets that were spread across Dean's floor. The oversized dog was like a mother, not only in the way she protected the boys and me, but in the sense that she was always there when I needed a shoulder to cry on.

It was there, in the kitchen that I lost it completely. I threw my half full cup of coffee at the wall, the mug shattering into a million pieces on contact. I stood and pushed the bottle of brandy onto the floor, wasting the perfectly good drink. I walked over to the sink and threw the plates onto the floor, the loud bangs with every hit sending a fresh wave of anger through my veins.

Sadie barked, her bark loud, alert. She finally stood up on her back legs and pushed me over, her huge paws knocking the wind out of my chest. I laid there, the dog on top of me, sobbing bitterly for longer than I cared to admit. Eventually, I rolled over and hugged my knees to my chest, laying on the floor like a broken, beaten child, the only thing in the world keeping me together was the huge mutt that not only saved the lives of the two people who were now the only living beings I cared for more than life itself, but my own life.

* * *

Harley left Bobby's house that night, without a word. She packed her bags, which were a lot lighter now, shoved them in the back seat of the Comet and drove off, her brother's corpse left to rot in Bobby's basement. She had left a note, with one single request. **Don't burn his body. **

With Sadie in the seat beside her, she drove until her vision was blurred with tears. Pulling to the side of the road, she let the tears roll down her cheeks, the pain in her chest unbearable – the breaking of her heart. She cried until there was nothing left to cry about.

"_Cade, no matter what, you're going to get out of this war alive," she promised as she drove into the sunset, her mind focused on two things and two things alone. Keeping her baby brother alive and hunting down the monsters that took away any chance at a normal childhood. A normal life. _

"_Mom might be lost in her own world, but we're going to keep the business alive," Caden said with a smile, his eyes wide with happiness. He loved the hunt. Hated the sacrifices and broken promises, hated the late nights and early mornings. Most of all, he hated the way his sister suffered on a daily basis, their mother's cruel words always echoing in the back of her mind._

_It wasn't her fault that their dad had been killed. It wasn't her fault that the hunt found them when they were too young to do anything. It wasn't her fault that their mother turned to drinking, turned into a monster they couldn't kill._

_No. Caden believed that it was their destiny. That it was their calling, to go out and save the world. Just as it was to be that Sam and Dean were to not only become hunters, but change the course of destiny. Change what was meant to be._

_Harley hated the hunt, almost as much as she loved it. The thrill of a successful case closed always led to a night of joyful celebration. A demon ganked meant yet another success to write about. But she hated the way her brother's life was constantly at risk. One night right after another. To her, it wasn't worth it. She'd trade a million souls, just to keep her baby brother alive. _

_Their mother had taught them a lot. So many rules, so many tips, so many ways to protect people, save lives, kill monsters. From a young age, they could shoot a gun better than most grown men. From a young age, they were able to jump fences, throw iron rods like they were nothing, carry half their weight or more, without even breaking a sweat. _

_The life found them, before they even stood a chance at turning their back. _

Harley blamed herself for the death of her family. Everyone she knew was dying, one by one, in one attack or another. Her heart broke every time she thought of her brother, her mother, shoot, anyone that died because of her.

* * *

I ended up at the cemetery in Angola, where my father's headstone stood. He had been cremated, but we still had a stone installed, because his parents wanted somewhere to come and speak with their son. They soon followed after their son, their bones laying to rest in the ground beside their late son. My maternal grandparents were buried in the same cemetery.

I led Sadie through the headstones, disregarding the 'no dogs' rule, as well as the fact that it was 3 in the morning, the entire place pitch black. Lucky for me, I knew the cemetery better than anyone, having spent so many years coming back to say goodbye to my dad.

I sat down against the headstone, my hands locked around the bottle of Jack that I always brought when I visited my father.

"They're all dead, daddy. Every single one of them. Mom, gram, pops, Cade. They're all dead. And it's all my fault," I whispered, letting the drink soak into the ground as I tipped the bottle. "I don't know what happened this time. I just don't get it," I said softly.

I closed my eyes and let the hot tears stream down my face, just as I had so many times before. Memories of my father's all too short life flew through my mind.

"_Now Harley, what did mommy tell you about waking up the baby?" he asked, his strong arms holding me still in his lap._

"_That if I woke Cade up, I would have to clean up the yard for the next month," I pouted. At the time, we had three puppies, that we were watching while one of dad's co-workers were off on business._

"_That's right. So go on, get outta here before mommy comes in," he said as he set me on the ground and ushered me outside. _

"Daddy, god, I wish you were here," I sighed as I broke the bottle over the headstone, the glass showering down on the green grass. I took one, final look at my father's headstone, before walking back to the car, slamming the door with so much force, that it was a wonder the window didn't shatter.

I pressed down on the gas and sped off.

* * *

Dean was convinced she was going to off herself. That losing her brother would send her over the edge. He tried every number he had for her, every connection he had, everything, just to bring her back. Sam tried to tell him that maybe she just needed time alone for a while. Dean wouldn't take that. He kept calling. He kept looking for her. Not even Cas could find her. She had hidden herself, and would remain that way until she chose to be found.

Weeks passed. Caden was buried in a patch of land a few miles from Bobby's house, his resting place marked by a beautiful maple tree. Harley didn't know that though. All she knew was that her brother's body was decomposing somewhere.

She hide herself in a small underground basement of what was once a house, out in the middle of the woods. In which state, she couldn't remember. She lived off the land, hunting with Sadie, who had since become her only friend. There, she remained for the first two weeks after Caden was killed.

And there she remained, until the hunt finally forced her to come back into society.

_To be continued..._

* * *

_A/n;; That's it for book 1. I thank you all greatly for your comments! I hope you all had fun! :)  
_

_Except the beginning of book 2 coming soon. :)  
_

_**Disclaimer;; I don't own Supernatural or any of it's characters, plots, ect. Those belong to the amazing writers and producers. I only own my own characters and my own plots. **  
_

_****_**Eye of the Tiger - Harley Mae Chronicles, Book 2 : Coming Soon!**


End file.
